My Sweetest Downfall
by endercard
Summary: Walking Dead high school AU. Daryl is the resident bad boy, untouchable, yet scarred. He has a bad home life, and uses one night stands to ease the pain of the abuse he faces. That works, until a new kid moves to town. Rick Grimes discovers that there is much more to the brooding Daryl Dixon than meets the eye. Daryl Dixon/ Rick Grimes Slash.
1. Your hair was long when we first met

Chapter One—Your hair was long when we first met

Daryl was worthless. His father told him this everyday. With words, he screamed that it was Daryl's fault that his mother was dead. With his fists, he showed Daryl how he was helpless to defend himself. And with his eyes, on the rare day that he was sober, he glared at Daryl with such a focused hatred, that his son knew just how unwanted he was.

Daryl knew that in a just world, he would be dead. There was no reason for him to continue living this life, really. He filled his life and bed with meaningless people, searching for temporary relief from the pain of being unloved, disgusting, a waste of space.

Each fuck was cathartic. Every boy and girl that came home from school with him, came in his bed with him, was a reprieve from the reality: that he would live a short, meaningless life, and then die alone.

He was 16 now, and a junior in high school. He was smart enough to keep up with his age level, but made sure to keep his head lowered and his hand down in class. No need to involve the teachers in his home life. After all, it's not as if anyone really cared. If someone did, Daryl imagined that the DHR lady that was sent to his home a decade ago would have found him a different family. He would have made good grades, gotten a hug before he left for school in the mornings. Instead, that lady had bought all the shit his dad was shoveling and he got a backhand more often than anything else.

In school, Daryl got to be the tough guy that no one fucked with. A lot of people fucked him, sure, but that was always under Daryl's control, and every person he touched knew not to expect a call the next day. Or ever, really.

Daryl lived his life like people in songs told him to: like he was going to die tomorrow. Because in all actuality, that fact was always more probable than not.

It was two months into his junior year, and fall was beginning to set in to his small corner of Georgia. He woke earlier than usual, and was on his way to school after avoiding his dad, who was recovering from a bender, by climbing out the window.

Walking into his school, he nodded at Casey, the dude he got his pills from, to let him know that he was running low. Casey tipped his head back towards the gym doors and held up one finger, letting Daryl know to meet him in there at lunch time.

Daryl continued to his locker, and grabbed the books he would need for his first two classes, English and Bio. His English teacher was an old gal, almost completely deaf, and everyone expected her to croak any day now. His Bio teacher was a huge douche bag who goaded Daryl into losing his cool almost every fucking day. Mr. Walsh was Daryl's least favorite part of his school day, and he had an intense desire to punch that asshole in the face, just one time. He knew it would make him feel better.

Daryl walked into his English class, and continued to the back of the room, keeping his black hoodie up over his face, the better to hide his bruised eye. His dad had come home wasted and hit Daryl in the face while he was sleeping. Fucker couldn't even wake him up to start beating the shit out of him.

Daryl looked to the front of the room and saw the old bird talking to a kid he hadn't seen before. The boy was gesturing with his hands, trying to talk to Ms. Thomas, and being largely unsuccessful. He was about Daryl's height, just under six feet, and had sandy blonde hair that was slightly curly, and reached the nape of his neck. He was lean and angular, and had a handsome face. Daryl looked him over, noticing that his lips were made for sucking cock, full and almost pink. He kept licking his lips, obviously nervous about his first day at a new school.

Ms. Thomas stood up, grasping the boy's arm, and drug him to the front of the class, just as the bell rang and the last few students took their seats.

"Class, quiet down! We have a new student!" Ms. Thomas shouted. She only had one volume level: loud. Everyone in class looked up at the new boy, and he blushed to the tips of his ears. Daryl snorted. He forgot what it felt like to be embarrassed. Half of the people in this classroom had seen him naked, so it was rare that he felt the emotion.

Ms. Thomas didn't seem to notice the boy's reluctance to stand at the front of the room like a prize pony. In fact, instead of ending the torture, she gave him a little push towards the class and said, "Go on, dear, introduce yourself to your peers."

Daryl watched as the kid cleared his throat, his gaze moving awkwardly from the floor, to a student, and back to the floor. The kid looked up once more, and his eyes locked on Daryl's. If it was possible, his ears turned an even brighter shade of red, and he looked off to the side.

"Um," he cleared his throat again, "m-ma name is Rick. Rick Grimes. I'm from Atlanta, an' I moved here last week 'cause my dad got a new job." He made to go sit down, but Ms. Thomas stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Now, dear, take a seat by Mr. Dixon in the back there. He'll catch you up on where we are in the textbook." She pointed at Daryl, who raised his eyebrows.

"No, thanks, Ms. T. I got no interest in babysittin' the new guy." In all honesty, Daryl wouldn't mind spending a little one on one time with _Rick Grimes_, but hell if he was gonna let the teacher put her job off on him.

"Now, now, Mr. Dixon," Ms. T said primly. "If I recall correctly, you could use the extra credit. Your grade sure couldn't get much worse."

Daryl glared at the old bat. She had no right to talk to him like that. "Fuck this. I don' need yer fuckin' extra credit. Nex' time you wanna bully someone, pick an easier target." With that, he grabbed his bookbag from the back of his desk chair and stalked out of the room. He fucking hated bullies: parents, teachers, students. They were all the same.

He could still feel Grimes' piercing blue eyes boring into his hours later, even as he pulled Casey's cock further into his mouth. His knees were on the unforgiving linoleum of the gym floor, and he had one hand kneading Casey's hip while the other stroked from the base of Casey's prick to where his mouth was sucking intently.

He pulled Casey's cock farther into his mouth, deepthroating him, and hummed. Casey arched his back, moaning Daryl's name, and came into his mouth. Daryl swallowed his come down, and stood up, his knees creaking. Next time, he thought, he was doing this somewhere more comfortable.

"Shit, Dixon," Casey panted, still out of breath, "you suck dick like a fucking champ."

Daryl smirked and held out his hand. Casey rolled his eyes and pulled a bag out of his back pocket, simultaneously pulling his baggy jeans back up around his hips from where they had been bunched on his thighs.

"What, no pillow talk?" Casey sneered. "You'll make me think you're only using me for my supplies."

"I am, dickhead," Daryl said before grabbing the baggie in Casey's hand and making for the exit. He still had to find a place to take some of this shit before his next class, and he only had five minutes until the bell. Fucker took forever to come.

"Don't you want me to take care of you, man? You've gotta be uncomfortable." Casey looked pointedly towards the crotch of Daryl's black jeans.

Daryl smirked at him again. "There ain't nuthin' ta take care of." Casey gaped at him as Daryl walked out of the gym. Shithead didn't seem to realize that sucking his cock was the opposite of a turn-on. Not that Daryl disliked going down on guys; quite the opposite, in fact. It could be fucking hot. But not when it was for an ugly fucker like Casey, who traded BJs for drugs.

Now, if Daryl was sucking on, let's say, Grimes's cock: that would be another story. Daryl found himself zoning out as he made his way towards the bathroom on the far side of the school, near the band room. They were out at practice right now, as they had an earlier lunch period, so that end of the school would be deserted.

Daryl pushed open the door of the bathroom and walked into the farthest stall, locking it behind him. He sat on the toilet and pulled out the baggie. He swallowed two of the pills dry and then rolled the baggie into his gym shirt and placed it in his backpack.

Daryl opened the stall and started to step out, but stopped in his tracks as he came face to face with Mr. Walsh.

"What are you doin', Dixon?" Walsh asked harshly, suspicion in his voice.

Daryl swung his bookbag onto his back and shrugged innocently. "Just takin' a dump, _sir_," Daryl replied, a saccharine sweet smile on his face.

Walsh's face twisted in a grimace, and he grabbed Daryl's arm. He started to drag Daryl out of the bathroom, but Daryl would be damned if he made it easy for him. He dug in his heels and tried to wrench his arm free from Walsh's iron-tight grip.

"Stop strugglin', Dixon!" Walsh grated as he tightened his grip on Daryl's arm. Daryl continued to struggle against his teacher's grip, but his arm was starting to go numb from lack of blood circulation.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened, and both Daryl and Walsh looked up to see Rick Grimes walk in and stop suddenly, blue eyes wide in surprise. His gaze shot to Daryl, then he looked at Walsh, and finally his eyes fell on Walsh's grip on Daryl's arm, which probably looked as painful as it felt.

Walsh's grip automatically loosened as he became aware of the repercussions of having an audience, and Daryl wrenched his arm free at last. He brought his other hand up to rub the circulation back into his arm, glaring at Walsh all the while.

"What are you doin' in here, Rick? I know you have lunch now, 'cause you just got outta my class," Walsh said, his voice now portraying authority, but not anger as it had with Daryl.

Grimes's gaze moved from Walsh back to Daryl, who had stopped rubbing his arm, because he didn't want to look like a pussy in front of the hot new kid.

"He's here ta meet me," Daryl said, grinning at Grimes, whose eyes grew even wider. Walsh's gaze snapped to Daryl suspiciously, then went back to Grimes, who blushed under the scrutiny.

"Is that right?" Walsh asked Grimes.

Daryl jumped in, though the question wasn't directed at him, "Yep. Old Ms. T tol' me ta show the kid around, so I was gonna give 'im a tour of the school."

"I wasn't talkin' ta you, Dixon," Walsh snarled. His face cleared of anger as he looked to Grimes. "Well, Rick? What are you doin' on this side of the school?"

Grimes cleared his throat, and looked Walsh straight in the eye. "Jus' like he said, sir. He's supposed ta give me a tour." He then looked right into Daryl's startled gaze. "Sorry I'm late, man, I got caught up in the caf."

Daryl schooled his expression back into a smug grin as he looked at Walsh. He continued watching him even as he answered Grimes, "No problem. Wanna start that tour now, or hold off 'til tomorrow?" He looked at Grimes, who looked very pleased with himself and his ability to lie.

"Now's good, I got a free period next. Track was cancelled 'cause o' the rain."

"Fuck me, it's rainin'?" Daryl said. Walking home was gonna be unpleasant.

Grimes nodded, and looked at Walsh. "Can we go now, Mr. Walsh? Or do ya need anythin' else?" Daryl had to grin at just how fucking innocent the kid could look. He had mad skills at deception.

Walsh grimaced, then turned to glare at Daryl one last time. "Nah, go on Rick, Dixon." Grimes turned to exit, but Walsh blocked Daryl's way to offer one last threat, "I've got my eye on you, boy. Next time you screw up, I'll be there ta make sure you pay fer it."

Daryl smiled sweetly at Walsh, and maneuvered around him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," he threw over his shoulder. He pushed open the bathroom door, and spotted Grimes a little ways down the hallway.

"C'mon, Grimes, I ain't got all day."

He turned to walk the opposite way from Grimes, away from the band room, and towards the rest of the school. He glanced beneath his eyelashes at Grimes, who had been looking at Daryl, and smirked when the kid moved his gaze to the floor as his ears turned red again. Daryl checked that his bastard of a teacher was nowhere around, and then looked back to Grimes.

"Listen, Grimes. Thanks fer that back there. I dunno why ya stuck yer neck out fer me, but I 'preciate it all the same."

Grimes met Daryl's gaze, and he nodded. "I don' know why Mr. Walsh was such a dickhead to ya, but I know he hurt yer arm." He rolled his eyes when Daryl scoffed. "Aw, now, don' try ta act all macho now. The man is a tank. He could injure the Hulk, I'd wager." Grimes smiled at Daryl, and Daryl felt his dick twitch in interest. Damn, but Grimes was pretty.

Daryl shrugged and rubbed his arm absentmindedly. "Nah, I've had worse."

As Grimes looked at him curiously, Daryl decided it was time to change the subject.

"Actually, Grimes, I got a class now, so I'll have to give ya a raincheck on that tour, if ya really want one."

Grimes smiled at Daryl again, "Sure I do, Dixon. An' you can call me Rick."

Daryl couldn't help but smile back. He didn't know the last time he genuinely smiled at someone. "Daryl. The name's Daryl."

Rick reached out a hand. "It's nice to meet ya, Daryl."

Daryl grasped Rick's warm palm in his, and shook his hand. "Likewise."

His hand was still tingling as he walked away.


	2. Beneath the sheets of paper

Chapter Two—Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth

Rick woke up the morning after his first day of school with a spring in his step. He was finally, _finally_ free of the humiliation and criticism that he received at his previous high school. He had been worried his first day, nervous that everyone would be able to see through him, see who he really was, and he would get hell for it.

But everything had gone surprisingly well. No one seemed to suspect anything.

Well, almost no one. Rick had the sneaking suspicion that the boy he had met, Daryl Dixon, had seen through Rick in a heartbeat. When he was looking in Daryl's clear blue eyes, though, he didn't feel judged. Rather, he felt that he was looking at a kindred spirit. Someone who had secrets, who kept a part of himself hidden.

Rick could understand that.

After showering and dressing, Rick took the stairs three at a time on his way down to the kitchen to eat breakfast with his family.

His dad was already at the table, coffee cup in his right hand, and newspaper propped up on his lap. He was scanning the sports section, as usual, and Rick smiled at him as he took his seat.

"Do you want sausage or bacon, sweetie?" his mom asked from where she stood by the stove.

"Bacon, please," Rick replied. His eyes swept the room quickly before he looked back at his dad. "Where's Carl?"

"Still sleeping, I'm sure," his dad sighed. He made to fold his paper and get up, but Rick stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Don't worry about it, Dad, I got it."

"Are you sure?" his dad asked.

Rick smirked evilly and rubbed his hands together dramatically. "Oh, yeah. I still owe him for pouring water on me last week at four in the morning."

His dad laughed and went back to his paper. His mom looked up from the stove and clucked her tongue at him as he started out of the room. "Don't do too much damage, dear," she called after his retreating back.

Rick bounded up the stairs, and turned right to enter his little brother's room. Carl was eleven, and a complete and total brat. He was mischievous and clever, and he always had a prank ready to spring on some unsuspecting person.

Rick adored him, in all honesty.

He loved being a big brother. He also considered it his God given duty to torture his baby brother any chance he got.

He decided quick and easy was his best option today, as they were already running late for school, and he had to drop Carl off at the middle school on the way to the high school.

He ran full tilt at Carl's bed and, letting loose a warrior's cry, jumped on top of him. Carl startled awake, but couldn't get off the bed in time to save himself from Rick's next move. Rick grabbed his leg and pulled him off the bed, and then proceeded to drag him down the hallway to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, and while it was still cold, tossed a struggling, screaming Carl under the spray.

"You've got ten minutes to get ready, or you're walking!" Rick yelled cheerfully. Cackling evilly, he ran back downstairs to eat his breakfast.

Half an hour later, after dropping a still grumbling Carl off at school, Rick pulled into the student parking lot of his own school and turned off the ignition. He sighed happily, glad to be here, rather than at his old school. He was looking forward to making new friends.

It also didn't hurt that there was some decent eye candy here. He had grown up with everyone at his last school, and it had been difficult for him to separate the nose-picking, snotty little kids from the teenagers they had become.

Speaking of eye candy, Rick thought, there goes Daryl now. Rick watched as Daryl walked across the parking lot at a leisurely pace, his head down and black hoodie pulled up. He had a sort of magnetism, a mysterious bad boy aura, that he hadn't realized before that he was attracted to.

If the hitch in his breath as Daryl continued his graceful walk into the school was any indication, though, he was exactly Rick's type.

As he walked in Ms. Thomas's English class, Rick took a seat in the back near where he noticed Daryl was sitting the day before. He hadn't met that many people yesterday, but he figured sitting by the people he had met was a good start to making friends.

Daryl came in as the bell rang, and Ms. Thomas stood up to call the class to order. Daryl didn't look up from the floor as he took the seat next to Rick.

"Okay, class, settle down. We're going to start Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice today, so I'll ask that you please take out the copies that I asked you to bring and turn to the preface." She paused, looking around the room. "Oh, Mr. Grimes. I do believe that I forgot to mention you would be needing a copy, so you may read with Mr. Dixon. And Mr. Dixon, lower your hood, I will not ask you again."

Daryl sighed as he pulled out his copy of the book, and raised a hand to pull down his hood. Rick gasped at Daryl's face came into full view. He had noticed yesterday that a bruise around Daryl's eye was the only tarnish on his smooth skin. Today, though, the bruise seemed to have grown. It was a dark purple, and now ran the length of his face, from his right brow down to his jaw.

Daryl looked up at the sound and met Rick's eyes. He must have read the concern on his face, because he smirked and whispered, "This ain't nothin', Grimes. You should see the other guy."

Rick forced a smile at Daryl's attempt at nonchalance. He wondered who Daryl had been fighting.

For the rest of the class, Rick read over Daryl's shoulder. They had moved their desks closer together, and Rick couldn't help but notice that Daryl smelled like cigarettes, motor oil, and Old Spice. It was oddly enticing.

With the exception of the moment when Daryl outright refused to read aloud from the book after Ms. Thomas asked him to—she surprised Rick by not pushing the issue and moving on to a new student—the class went by without a hitch.

Rick found himself curious about Daryl's reluctance to participate in class. Maybe he was shy?

Pondering this, Rick recalled that earlier, when it was time to turn the page of the book, he had reached past Daryl to do so, and Daryl and reacted as though Rick was going to grab him. He covered the reaction quickly, but Rick noticed. This made him recall the way Daryl had looked in the bathroom the day before, when Mr. Walsh had had a hold of his arm.

Daryl had looked like he was fighting for more than trying to avoid a simple reprimand. He looked as if he expected to be punished in a far worse way.

Had something happened to him before?

As the bell rang, Rick shook his head to clear it of his thoughts of Daryl. He moved his desk back to its proper place and grabbed his bookbag. He turned around to thank Daryl for sharing his book, but found the space where he had been empty. He turned to the doorway, and saw the other boy's beaten up black bookbag as he left the classroom. He wondered how long ago Daryl had purchased the bag, as one of the straps was completely broken.

Rick shrugged. He had to get to his next class.

As Rick walked into his Biology class, he noticed Daryl sitting in the back of the room. He stared. What was he doing in here? Was he in this class?

He assumed that he hadn't see him the day before because Mr. Walsh had made Rick sit in the front, but he hadn't introduced himself to the class like he had in English, so he never faced the back of the room.

Also, based on Daryl's actions in English, he seemed to come in right as the bell rang, and he was the first one out the door at the end of class. Rick thought about sitting by Daryl. After all, the boy intrigued him. But he didn't think practically stalking him was the best way to become friends. There was almost something skittish about him, in fact.

Sighing, Rick moved past Daryl and up to a table in the front, where he sat the day before.

As he was pulling out the things he would need for class today, Mr. Walsh came around his desk towards Rick. He leaned against the table beside him and smiled.

"What's up, Rick? How was the rest of your first day here?" Mr. Walsh asked, his eyes darting from Rick's face to a spot behind him.

Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise. His teacher seemed like he was trying to treat him like a buddy, rather than a student. And was he mistaken, or were his eyes going to Daryl and back to him?

"It was fine, sir. Uneventful." Rick paused. "Did you need something, Mr. Walsh?" Rick tried his best to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He was using all of his willpower to keep his face blank and his tone pleasant. He shot a quick glance behind him. Daryl had his gaze locked on the tabletop in front of him, not seeming to notice the conversation going on ahead of him.

"Oh, no," Mr. Walsh said, his eyes darting back to what Rick was now sure was Daryl. "I just wanted to check up, make sure you didn't need anything. I know it can be stressful starting a new school." Rick was about to answer, when Mr. Walsh continued, "Say, Rick, I'm glad you're sittin' up front like you did yesterday. I was afraid you might've wanted to sit with Dixon, seein' as how y'all got to know each other yesterday." At this comment, Mr. Walsh shot him what Rick was sure he thought was a winning smile.

Rick hesitated, unsure whether Mr. Walsh was trying to get him to talk about Daryl or not. Judging by what he witnessed between the two yesterday, Mr. Walsh wasn't all that fond of Daryl, or Daryl of Mr. Walsh.

Rick smiled uneasily at Mr. Walsh and shrugged. "Daryl just showed me around a little is all," Rick said. Mr. Walsh raised his eyebrows at Rick's use of Daryl's first name.

"Well, I think it's best you find different friends, if you know what I mean, Rick. There are some good kids in this school. If you want, I can introduce you to some kids you might have more in common with."

Internally, Rick recoiled at the idea. Who did Mr. Walsh think he was kidding? He obviously didn't like Daryl, and for some reason he was taking it upon himself to try to steer Rick towards people that he approved of. Confused about why Mr. Walsh would take such an interest in who he made friends with, Rick fought his instinct to tell Mr. Walsh to mind his own business. Strategically, it was better to stay on Mr. Walsh's good side. You never know when you may need something from a teacher.

Rick smiled pleasantly. "That's okay, Mr. Walsh. I'm making a lot of friends, everyone here has been really welcoming."

Mr. Walsh opened his mouth to reply just as the tardy bell rang. He shrugged, apparently losing his interest in controlling Rick's life, and walked up to the front of the class. Rick breathed a sigh of relief, and turned his head to sneak a quick look at Daryl.

He met clear blue eyes with his own, but instead of ducking his head like his instincts told him to, he held Daryl's gaze. He wanted to let Daryl know that he wasn't buying any of Mr. Walsh's crap. He wasn't going to let anyone make his decisions for him.

The left side of Daryl's mouth lifted just a little. Rick would have missed it if he hadn't been looking for it. Then he dropped his gaze back to the tabletop.

The rest of the class was a blur, as Rick was making notes and following along in the book during Mr. Walsh's lecture. Rick noticed that though the teacher called on just about every student in class to answer questions- even Rick himself, though he was new- he never called on Daryl. In fact, he seemed to pretend that Daryl wasn't even there.

To be fair, as Rick always tried to be, Daryl did seem to want to make himself invisible. Hell, even Rick hadn't noticed that he was in the class on his first day, and Daryl was by far the most interesting part of the day before. Mr. Walsh was just letting Daryl get away with it.

The bell rang to send half of the school, including the biology class, to lunch. Rick already had his bag packed, because he wanted to be one of the first ones out the door.

He was going to talk to Daryl.

Rick exited the biology classroom and was just a few feet from Daryl. He was about to call out to him when a blonde girl came barreling out of another room and grabbed Daryl's arm.

Daryl seemed to know she was coming before she touched him, because he didn't seem startled. He continued walking, not breaking his stride for the girl, and didn't acknowledge her presence.

"Hi, Daryl!" the girl said excitedly. Daryl grunted in response. "You wanna come over tonight?"

Rick saw Daryl shrug before he turned away from the conversation. He walked down a hallway to the left towards his locker so he could pick up his gym bag for third period.

Apparently he had read some signs wrong. Daryl wouldn't be interested in Rick as more than a friend. Though, Rick thought, who said every friendship he had with a boy needed to have the potential for more?

Rick recalled Daryl's genuine smile the day before, and the way he startled when Rick had reached over him to turn the page. He remembered just how natural it had felt to lie in order to protect Daryl. It seemed that his mind had already decided to pursue a friendship with Daryl, whether he had realized it or not.

After all, Rick was alone here. It would be nice to not feel so isolated. It brought back memories of his last school.

Forcing himself to push away those thoughts, Rick entered the cafeteria and got in line for food. He noticed Daryl—what, did he have radar or something?—sitting in the far corner with the blonde girl from earlier. It looked as though she was chatting, but Daryl was simply eating methodically, gaze fixed on his food.

Maybe she was one of those people who didn't need the other person to talk back. He wondered whether she even noticed Daryl's absence from the conversation.

Someone tapped Rick from behind. He turned around to see an Asian guy who smiled at him. "Hey, man, the line's moving."

"Oh!" Rick said, closing the gap between himself and the person in front of him. "Sorry about that."

"No worries," the guy replied. "You're new here, right?" Rick nodded. "I'm Glenn Rhee."

"Rick Grimes," he held out his hand to introduce himself. Glenn shook his hand, then looked over Rick's shoulder at the line of food that they were now close enough to see.

"Ugh, meat loaf day. I hate meat loaf day," Glenn moaned. He frowned unhappily, then grabbed a tray and two sets of silverware. Rick had just picked up his own, and was contemplating what to choose. "Dude, if you want my opinion, just go for the salad, and maybe the yogurt. Otherwise, whatever you eat is just gonna come back up. I swear, I think they try to give us food poisoning so they can all have a day off when we're all out sick." He twisted his face into an exaggerated grimace.

Rick laughed. Glenn had a sweet kind of charm about him that made him easy to like. "Thanks for the advice, I think I'll take it." Rick grabbed the items that were recommended to him, an apple, and two cartons of chocolate milk, before making his way to the cashier.

After paying, Rick scanned the cafeteria for somewhere to sit. He had lied about being held up in the cafeteria yesterday. He had been finishing up some paperwork in the office, and had eaten his bagged lunch outside, alone. He was nervous about eating in the cafeteria, because there were always unspoken rules, and cliques, and other things that bugged the crap out of him. He just wanted to sit down and eat while having some friendly conversation.

His wish was granted when Glenn came up from behind him and invited him to his table. Rick thanked him and followed him halfway down the rows of tables before stopping at one that was halfway full. Glenn placed his tray down in front of a pretty brunette girl, who craned her neck back to kiss Glenn on the cheek. Glenn sat beside her, patting the next chair over as an indication for Rick to take a seat.

Rick did so gratefully. He started on his lunch, opening up a carton of chocolate milk and taking a swig.

"Rick, this is my girlfriend, Maggie. Mags, this is Rick, he's new here." Rick waved to the brunette girl on the other side of Glenn, and she smiled back.

"Hi, Rick. So, how d'you like our town so far?" Maggie asked.

Rick shrugged. "I haven't had much of a chance to look around yet, just been to school, really. But everyone here's been nice, and my family and I are gonna go downtown this weekend to explore, grab lunch, you know."

"Cool," Maggie said. "I recommend Morgan's Rib Shack if you like barbeque, but there's the other standards, too: Panera, Checkers, Krystal. But Morgan's has _wonderful_ homemade sweet potato casserole. I'm not kidding, Rick. I would sell my soul for a lifetime supply of this stuff."

Glenn shook his head, "She's not kidding. I haven't gone a week without picking some up for her since we started going out. And that was over a year ago!"

"Aw, you know you love doin' favors for me," Maggie said, an exaggerated pout on her lips.

Glenn seemed to melt a little bit when he looked at her. "Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, I do."

Rick laughed at their antics.

Over the course of lunch, Maggie told him more about the things to do around town. Glenn chatted with Rick about some of the people in school, the teachers to try to avoid, and which students to try not to piss off.

While he was talking, Rick was hoping that he would bring up the one name he wanted to hear. He couldn't seem to help himself, honestly. He was intrigued by one person, and he wanted to know what the two people in front of him had to say about him.

When Glenn seemed to run out of people to chat about, Rick decided to just jump in with both feet.

"Can I ask you two something?" Rick asked hesitantly.

"Sure!" Glenn said. "What's up?"

"Well," Rick began, "I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about a certain student…" Rick trailed off, his eyes darting to Daryl, who was still sitting on the other side of the room, and who remained as silent as he was before. Rick averted his gaze when he felt Maggie and Glenn's eyes on him, but he was too late. They had followed his gaze.

Rick blushed as he took in their expressions. Glenn had his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, as if he couldn't understand why Rick would be interested in knowing about Daryl. But Maggie… she had a look of understanding on her face, and she was gazing at Rick with an expression that he couldn't put his finger on, but it looked like… sympathy?

"Dixon?" Glenn asked. He looked to Rick, who moved his eyes back to Glenn from Maggie, because he could _feel_ how red his ears were. Rick nodded to him. "Well," Glenn began, "I don't know much about him personally. I know more about his older brother, Merle, who used to go to school here a while ago."

"His brother? What, was he a senior when y'all were freshman?" Rick said.

"Nah," Maggie offered, "he's even older than that, but he was a _legend_. The pranks he pulled, and he got into fights _all_ the time. It was a miracle he wasn't expelled. According to my dad, he was suspended a lot, though."

"Your dad?" Rick asked.

"Oh, yeah, her dad is the principal here. Mr. Greene," Glenn said. Rick nodded in comprehension.

"So, my dad told me a few stories about him. Not too many though, because he didn't want to give me any ideas," Maggie smirked, and Glenn put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head.

"My evil girlfriend," he sighed.

Maggie giggled, and continued, "But Daryl, he's a quiet one. Don't talk much, but when he does, he's got somethin' to say. Like, the first time I heard him speak, he was a sophomore, and he had this kid pinned to his locker. S'far as I could tell, the boy had said somethin' derogatory about Merle or his ma or someone, and Daryl made sure that didn't happen again, I'll tell you what. No one said anything bad about the Dixons to Daryl's face after that."

"Yeah," Glenn chimed in, "but he's never been in a fight that wasn't provoked by the other person, according to Mr. Greene. He says Daryl never comes out and says who started it, but there's always witnesses. I don't know why stupid people keep trying to egg him on, honestly. I don't think the guy's lost a fight since kindergarten." Glenn laughed. "Hell, with a brother like Merle, I think the guys he fights _here_ are child's play in comparison."

Rick sat in silence for a moment, absorbing everything that Maggie and Glenn had told him. So Daryl had a big brother, and Merle had a reputation. But what did that mean for Daryl? And he got into a lot of fights, but is it like Glenn said, that he didn't start them? Did he have a lot of enemies or something?

Maggie looked at Rick earnestly. "Listen, Rick, I feel like we may have made you think bad about Daryl. To be honest, I don't know that I've ever spoken to him. He's a year younger, so we don't share any classes, and like I said, he's real quiet. But I do know, from rumors and such, that he's never mean on purpose. He's had a rough time of it, Daryl has. Family stuff, you know. He hasn't had anything come easy to him, so if he's a little rough around the edges, I think it's understandable." She sighed, as if she was thinking about something sad.

Rick wondered about what had happened in Daryl's life that gave her that expression, but he didn't ask. If at some point, Daryl wanted to share some of his life with him, he would be glad to listen, but he didn't want to talk about him like he was some juicy gossip.

Glenn looked around the cafeteria. "Hey, it's just about time for the bell, and I gotta go to my locker before class. Coming Mags?"

"Sure, I'll walk with you," Maggie smiled at him.

"Hey, thanks for asking me to sit with y'all, it was real enlightening," Rick gave them a devilish grin, which made them both laugh.

"Anytime, Rick," Glenn replied.

"He means that," Maggie interjected, "You can sit with us anytime, we enjoyed your company." Glenn nodded his agreement.

Rick blushed, _just a little bit_, and said his thanks. He had really enjoyed sitting with them, too.

He left the cafeteria that day feeling as if he had made his first friends.

Rick loved running. To him, it felt like flying. Track practice was his favorite time of the school day, because it gave him time to think, to organize his thoughts.

Today, his thoughts centered around one person. Daryl.

Rick thought about what Glenn and Maggie had told him just a few moments before. He wondered what could have happened in his life to make him so closed off, almost _shy_, and he wondered if whatever it was, whether Daryl was still living it.

Was he abused? Neglected? Traumatized in some way? He couldn't help but think the worst, because all he saw when he closed his eyes was the look on Maggie's face when she said that Daryl had never had it easy.

His mind still going around and around, Rick noticed that most of his teammates were already in the locker room, and he realized that he was running late for his last class of the day. He still needed to shower and change.

Jogging into the dressing room, he was moving towards his locker when he heard laughter coming from behind him. He looked around absentmindedly, then froze as his eyes fully took in what they were seeing.

A tall, thin boy—who Rick recognized from the track team, he thought his name was Phillip- was holding up a bookbag as he rifled through its contents. "What've we got here?" he said, pulling out a baggie from the depths of the bookbag.

At this, Rick sprang into action. He recognized that bookbag, with its severed strap.

"Hand that over," he said to the guy. Phillip raised his eyebrows curiously. He dropped the bookbag unceremoniously to the floor, but kept a firm hand on the baggie, which looked to Rick as if it had pills in it.

"Sorry?" Phillip said. He sneered at Rick.

"I know that's not yours, now hand it over. That bookbag belongs to Daryl Dixon, and you have no right to take his things," Rick said, his teeth clenched around the words.

Phillip laughed derisively, and he looked around the room at the small crowd that had formed around them, which Rick was just noticing. "Nah, I don't think so. I'd rather show this to the coach. Whatever he has in here is probably illegal, you know? I'd be doing a public service by getting him thrown outta school."

Rick, barely controlling his temper, took a step closer to him. He was now within arm's reach. The crowd seemed to grow quieter in anticipation.

"You need to give that to me," Rick said quietly. "Now."

"Why are you so worried about Dixon, man? Hoping he'll suck your dick if you keep him from getting expelled?" Phillip asked maliciously. "Well, he is a cockslut, so I can see where you'd get the ide—"

His words were cut short when Rick's fist made contact with his face.


	3. They're just old light

Chapter Three—They're just old light

Daryl had just stepped onto the court when another student came up and said the coach wanted to see him in the locker room. Daryl wasn't sure what he was supposed to have done this time, but he shrugged and went to find out.

When he rounded the corner into the changing area, he noticed a large crowd of people, all standing around dumbly.

And they were all looking at him.

Uncomfortable with the attention, Daryl made his way towards Coach Douglas's office, hoping he was in there.

He knocked on the door and heard a muffled, "Come in."

When he stepped inside, he was met with a surprising sight.

On either end of the room was a student. Rick Grimes was one of them, and he was sporting a split lip and bruised knuckles. He was glaring daggers at the other occupant in the room: Phillip Woods, who looked much worse for wear. He had a black eye, a cut on his eyebrow, and it looked like some of his clothes were ripped. He was glaring right back at Grimes.

_Rick_, Daryl corrected himself.

Daryl finally looked up to the last occupant of the room, his phys ed coach, Theodore Douglas. He wanted his students to call him T-dog, but fuck if Daryl was gonna call him a stupid name like that.

Not happening.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at Douglas, hoping for an explanation, or at least a reason why he was there.

"Thank you for coming Dixon," Douglas said. "I'm sorry for this, but I'm afraid we're all gonna have to take a trip to the office. Everything will be explained to you there."

Daryl creased his brow in confusion, but remained silent. Whatever, if he wanted to be cryptic. Maybe he could get it out of Rick on the way there.

"Grimes, you go on ahead. We'll meet you there in a moment," Douglas continued.

Or maybe not, Daryl thought.

Grimes shot an apologetic glance to Daryl, which he didn't understand, and one last glare at Phillip, before nodding to the coach and exiting the office.

"Woods, can you step outside for a moment? I need to have a minute with Daryl," Douglas said.

"Why can't I just go to the office with Grimes?" Phillip whined. Fucker was always whining about something or other. Woods was one of the few people Daryl regretted fucking. Shithead was crazy.

The coach sighed. "The last thing I need is you two getting into it again before you even make it to the principal." He rolled his eyes. "Just wait outside, please."

Phillip sighed dramatically, and left the room.

Daryl looked to the coach, waiting for him to speak. Douglas sighed.

"Listen, Dixon. I know you're not like your brother." At this, Daryl tensed up. Fucking seriously? What did Merle have to do with anything? "But there was something found in your bag that we have to show to the principal. Now, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, here, because I know you're a good kid. I don't know if you got them for Merle, or if there's some other reason, but I want you to know, before we go to the office, that I'm on your side. Okay?"

Daryl absorbed these facts quickly, and when he realized what exactly was confiscated, every part of him froze. This was bad. Real bad. He nodded stiffly to Coach Douglas, and turned to exit the office. Before he reached the door, he felt the other man's hand squeeze his shoulder. Daryl fought his instinctual reaction to shrug it off. He knew the man didn't mean any harm, but he didn't like being touched unless he controlled the situation.

And he was not in control of this situation. At all.

During the walk to the office, Daryl blocked out Phillip and the coach, and tried to think of an explanation that wouldn't land himself in juvie or get his brother in more trouble than he was already in. He decided that the simplest explanation was the best. Tell the smallest lies possible, so you don't get caught in them later.

Fuck, he thought. Then I'll have to tell them the truth.

He wasn't looking forward to this.

As he was being led into the office, he saw Rick leaning against a wall, wearing his track outfit, obviously waiting for them to arrive. Rick looked up as Daryl entered, and he stood up straight and looked as if he was going to take a step closer to him, but Coach Douglas stepped in front of him. "Grimes, go talk to Ms. Walker, she's waiting for you in her office," he said. Rick opened his mouth as if to argue, or to speak to Daryl, but the coach cut him off. "Now, Grimes," he insisted, not unkindly.

Rick sighed, then turned and made his way to Lori Walker's office. If Rick was talking to the assistant principal, Daryl guessed that he was getting the honor of speaking to Principal Greene. Fuck.

Well, at least Greene wasn't as strict as that bitch Walker. He was more likely to buy what Daryl was gonna try to sell him.

"Okay, Woods, you're talking to Ms. Walker when Grimes is done. Dixon, come with me," Coach Douglas said, and started to walk towards Mr. Greene's office.

Daryl followed with his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. When he entered Mr. Greene's office, he saw the man standing at the window, hands clasped behind his back.

Coach Douglas cleared his throat, and Mr. Greene turned around to face his visitors.

"Hello, Coach Douglas, Mr. Dixon. Please, have a seat." He indicated the two chairs placed in front of his desk, and waited for them to sit before settling in his own chair behind the desk.

"Well, Mr. Dixon, I'm not sure whether anyone has told you why you're here." He stared at Daryl, obviously waiting for a response. Sighing, Daryl shook his head. "Well, then. Let me show you." Mr. Greene pulled a very familiar baggie from a desk drawer and held it up to the light.

"Do you recognize this, Daryl?" Mr. Greene asked, his eyes on Daryl's face.

Daryl slowly nodded. Mr. Greene raised his eyebrows, as if surprised that Daryl had told the truth.

"Well?" he continued.

Daryl took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"They're not narcotics or nothin', if that's whatcha thinkin'." Daryl said. "I take them because I… well, I need them for,,,, somethin'." He trailed off.

Mr. Greene looked at Daryl with concern. He then looked at Coach Douglas and said, "Theodore, would you mind giving us a moment?"

The coach nodded, and silently rose from his chair. After he exited, Mr. Greene looked back to Daryl.

"Mr. Dixon, do you have a medical condition that requires the regular use of this drug?" he asked.

Daryl hesitated, then nodded.

"And what is this drug?" Mr. Greene persisted.

Daryl's eyes shifted from Mr. Greene to the floor and back nervously. He had never told no one but Merle about his problem. Not even his asshole father knew. He knew he had to tell the principal, though, if he didn't wanna be kicked out.

He took a deep breath. "It's Xanax."

Mr. Greene's eyebrows rose, and he looked down at the baggie again. "Xanax? That's for-"

"Anxiety disorder, yeah. I get panic attacks sometimes, and some other stuff." Daryl figured that was enough information.

Mr. Greene seemed to realize that Daryl was done describing his use of the drug, because he didn't ask any more questions about it. "Daryl, you do understand that I'll need to verify this, right? I'll need to contact your doctor and get your medical records, and I'll have the nurse look at the medication to see that it is, in fact, Xanax."

Daryl's hackles rose, but he tried to keep calm. Mr. Greene held up a pacifying hand when he saw that Daryl was becoming upset.

"It's not that I don't believe you, son, it's just standard procedure. All medications must be administered through the office, no exceptions. And we can't administer meds without a doctor's note, so…" He hesitated. "Of course, this is only for medications that are taken during the school day. If you could take them before or after school…"

Daryl felt a glimmer of hope that he could get out of this without causing any more problems. This was his fault, and he would make sure, if anyone got punished, it'd be him. But hopefully he could get out of it himself, too.

"Yeah, Mr. Greene, I could do that. I take it pretty late everyday, so I'll just leave it at home and take it after school," Daryl said.

Principal Greene sighed. He held the bag up and looked at the pills closely. "Well, I'll give these to Nurse Penny, so she can verify what they are, and barring any complications, you can pick them up after your last class… which, I believe you are very late for because of this, uh, incident." Daryl could swear that his eyes twinkled, a bit. "You know, Mr. Dixon, I have been the principal of this school for quite a while. In fact, seeing you sitting there brings up memories of another Mr. Dixon who was often in here."

Daryl tensed up, ready for the onslaught of 'all you Dixons are the same, nothing but white trash, good for nothing,' blah, blah, blah. Honestly, people seemed to think he hadn't heard it al before.

"But," Mr. Greene continued, "I never saw Merle Dixon the way some of the other teachers seemed to. He talked about you, sometimes. When it was just him and me in here, like you and I are now."

Daryl tried to hide the surprise he felt, but he got the sense that Mr. Greene saw it anyway.

"Yep," he said. "He would tell me about his, and I quote, 'pain in the ass baby brother, and all of the shit he got into last weekend.'" Daryl couldn't help but smirk a little at Mr. Greene's cursing, and the idea of Merle saying that to the man, and Mr. Greene let out a laugh. "Oh, but he would tell some stories about you. Apparently, you've always been making waves, wherever you go."

He paused for a moment.

"I know the two of you have had it tough," Daryl was about ready to close his ears with his thumbs and start singing, he didn't want to hear this shit again, from another well-meaning adult, but he listened to what Mr. Greene had to say. "I just wanted to tell you that… if you ever need anything, my door is open. If you need to talk, rant, rave, scream at somebody… or if you need guidance, I'm here." He gazed at Daryl for a moment, not really expecting a response.

Daryl didn't give one.

Mr. Greene nodded, as if in resignation. He smiled slightly, pulling himself together. "Well, then. Stop by the office after class and you can have these pills back. I'll write you a note for your tardiness." He pulled a piece of paper forward and wrote quickly on it. He then handed it to Daryl, who stood up and turned to leave. "Have a good day, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl nodded without turning around, and left.

After school, with the repossessed pills in his pocket, Daryl walked into his house with Amy at his side. She had asked him to come over the day before, but he wasn't in the mood to go to her house or see her crazy bitch sister. He had enough crazy in his own family, thanks.

He led her to his bedroom, and closed and locked the door. His father had yet to come home early enough from the bar to catch anyone in his room, but there was always a first time for everything.

"So, Daryl, thanks for inviting me over," Amy gushed. Daryl rolled his eyes. This is why he preferred dudes sometimes: less small talk.

"Sure thing," Daryl replied. "You ready?" he asked. He didn't bring anyone over unless they knew what they were getting into. He wasn't interested in playing games or leading people on. He just wanted to get laid.

"What, no music? Candles?" she pouted. She batted her eyelashes at him.

He snorted. "Sorry, sweetheart, you're gonna have to look elsewhere if that's somethin' you need. I don't do none of that romantic shit." He moved away from her.

"No, wait!" she said, stepping closer to him. She placed her hands on his chest, and he fought the urge to shove them off. He didn't like being touched when he didn't initiate the contact. "I wanna do this," she insisted. "I'm ready."

"You sure?"

In reply, she sat down his bed and reclined back so that her breasts pushed against the vee of her t-shirt. She scooted herself back until she was in the center of the twin sized bed, then took off her top. Soon to follow was her bra, her sandals, and her jeans.

Daryl raised an eyebrow. He took that as a 'yes.' He took off his shirt, then started on his belt and the button of his jeans. He heard a gasp from Amy, which made him tense. He knew what was coming.

"Oh, Daryl," she said sympathetically. "I had heard about… well, you know… your scars," she whispered the last word. "But I didn't realize they were so bad, or that you had so many. What hap—"

"Listen, doll, we're not talkin' about it," he interrupted, steel in his voice. "If you can't keep your mouth shut, then you can go right ahead and get the hell outta here. I'm here to fuck, not have a heart to heart." He glared at her. "Got it?"

She swallowed, but nodded. She silently held out a hand to him, and he grasped it and climbed on to the bed next to her.

He spent the next half hour forgetting about his problems.

Amy left shortly after they finished, and Daryl lounged in bed for a while, thinking about the events of the day. He couldn't believe he hadn't gotten expelled, or at least suspended, for his possession of the drug. When it happened, all he could think about was how to get out of it. But now he had time to figure out why it happened in the first place.

His first thought was that it was that douche bag Phillip Woods. Guy was nuts and he had a grudge against Daryl ever since he let him know that he was the worst lay he ever had, and no, I don't want seconds, thanks.

Where did Rick fit in, then? Was he friends with Woods? From the looks of his cut lip, and his glaring at the other boy, he doubted it. So, what? Was he trying to stop Woods from showing Coach Douglas the pills? Why would he do that?

Unable to answer this question, Daryl sighed and thought about the look he sent Daryl before he left the coach's office. Apologetic, that's what it was. But why?

In his opinion, if you didn't know someone's motives, you couldn't trust them. And if Rick had tried to help Daryl, what was his motive? Daryl couldn't remember the last time someone had done something for him, just to be nice. In fact, he didn't know if it had ever happened. Sure, Coach Douglas and Principal Greene told him 'they were on his side', 'I'm here if you need me' bullshit, but those were words. Useless, really.

But by the looks of Rick's mouth—his gorgeous, pink lipped mouth—he had fought a boy who had a few inches on him in order to protect Daryl.

He shook those thoughts from his head. How would Rick have known it was Daryl's bookbag that Phillip was going thru? He assumed this is how the drugs were found. After all, they weren't in a position to just fall out, as they had been in his locker, wrapped up in a shirt, and the bookbag was zipped shut.

And to be honest, Woods was one of the few assholes that were still stupid enough to fuck with Daryl.

He heard the front door slam shut, and he put his thoughts on the back burner. His father was home.

He stood up from his bed and took a pill out of the baggie on his nightstand. It was time for his evening dose.

A closer look at the bag revealed that he only had enough pills to last through maybe next Tuesday. He needed to get more from Casey soon.

He could hear his father stumbling around the house. It sounded like he was getting something to eat. Or probably to drink, Daryl thought. He sighed. He didn't have anything planned for tonight, since he only worked Wednesday thru Saturday, but he sure as hell wasn't leaving his room if he could help it.

He unlocked his door, because the last time his father had tried to come in and it was locked, Daryl had hell to pay for it the next time he saw him. You'd think with the amount of liquor he drank he'd forget when Daryl pissed him off, but no. Fucker had a mind like a steel trap when it came to remembering shit like that.

Daryl couldn't remember a time when he was ever praised for something, from his mom or dad. But when he screwed up, he'd hear about it for weeks after. He'd hear rants about how useless and worthless he was. Dumb, disrespectful. And all that.

Sometimes it was hard not to wonder if all of it was true. Maybe his mom had it right, in the end. To this day, he didn't know if she set the fire on purpose, if she took the easy way out. More often than not, he wasn't angry at her so much for being such a fuck up, or for leaving him if she did.

He was angry that she didn't bring him with her.

A loud crash sounded throughout the house. Daryl jolted awake. He hadn't even known that he'd fallen asleep. It was dark out, and a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand showed that it was eight o'clock. Shit.

He was fucking starving.

Daryl listened quietly. He could hear his father grumbling in the room next to him. His bedroom. If he was quick, he could make it to the kitchen and back before his dad heard him.

He really needed to keep some fucking chips in here for emergencies.

He stood from his bed and moved to the door as quietly as possible. He didn't want what happened for the last two days to happen again. He was tired of the stares, and the whispers that followed him because of his bruised face.

The day before, he had come home, his mind still on the new kid, Rick, and hadn't realized that he had forgotten to take out the trash that morning.

When his dad got home, he made sure to remind him. Daryl found it ironic that the drunken asshole used household chores as an excuse to beat on Daryl.

He considered himself lucky that he didn't use a belt, but just punched him a few times in the face. The last time he used a belt, he couldn't sleep comfortably on his back for a week.

Daryl walked quietly in his bare feet, and cautiously opened the refrigerator, keeping an ear out on the noises coming from his father's room. He pulled out the two-day-old pizza and grabbed three slices. His dad had ordered a few pizzas for his buddies when they were over having some beers over the weekend. He hadn't let Daryl have any, and he would be none too pleased to see him taking some now.

Luckily, tomorrow was Daryl's day to clean out the fridge. He'd just tell his dad the pizza spoiled. Looking at the slices in his hand, he realized that that was closer to the truth than he wanted it to be. There was literally nothing else that he could grab quickly enough to avoid his father, though, so he would just have to cross his fingers that he wouldn't get food poisoning.

He walked swiftly back to his room and closed the door silently behind him.


	4. Ate a slice of wonder bread

Chapter Four—Ate a slice of wonder bread

On Thursday, Rick started the day off in a bad mood. And things only got worse from there.

First, Carl woke him up by blasting rap in his ear, as payback for his rude awakening on Tuesday. Revenge is best served cold, my ass, Rick thought.

He had to take a cold morning shower, because the hot water heater had busted the night before.

Also, he had a flat tire, so he had to take his mom's car—correction, his mom's station wagon—and his dad drove his mom to work at the hospital.

Rick didn't want to admit the true reason that he was in bad mood. The reason, in fact, that he had been in a bad mood since first period yesterday.

Daryl Dixon wasn't in school.

He knew it was stupid. Honestly, it's not like he even really knew the guy. But for some reason, he kept finding himself distracted, wondering what Daryl was doing, and whether or not he had gotten suspended for those pills.

Or even worse: expelled.

Rick didn't even want to think of that possibility. The truth was, Rick had a bit of a crush, and he wanted to make sure that Daryl was alright. He just wanted to lay eyes on him.

As he pulled into the high school parking lot in his mother's station wagon—ugh—Rick swept his eyes over the groups of students, searching for a familiar black hoodie and worn out backpack.

He almost jumped in surprise when he spotted him. Daryl was leaning against the breezeway that led to the bus lanes, so he was relatively isolated. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and for once his hoodie was down in the morning. From here, Rick couldn't see whether or not the bruise on his face had improved any.

Rick took a deep breath, grabbed his bookbag, and exited the car. Despite his instincts telling him to leave Daryl alone—he wasn't a stalker for God's sake—he found his feet walking directly towards him.

Daryl looked up as Rick approached, because he seemed to notice everything, and he raised an eyebrow as Rick stopped in front of him.

"Erm—hi," Rick said lamely. He resisted the urge to slap his own forehead.

Daryl grunted in response, taking a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes piercing a hole right thru Rick. At least that's how it felt.

Rick found himself noticing just how blue Daryl's eyes were. Like the oceans in Florida, almost transparent, really.

When he realized he was gazing rather stupidly into Daryl's eyes, Rick cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Did you get suspended?" Rick asked. As soon as the question was out, he wanted to take it back. "You know what? Never mind. It's not my busin—"

Daryl cut him off with a quiet, "Nah."

Rick gazed at him wide-eyed for a moment before he remembered to blink. He cleared his throat again. "R-really? That's good. I was worried, because you didn't show up for school yesterday…" He trailed off lamely.

Daryl cocked his head a bit, seemingly interested in this bit of information. Rick felt his ears starting to burn. "You were worried about me?" Daryl asked. If he didn't know better, Rick would've called that note in his voice, well, teasing.

"Well, you know. I didn't know what happened in the office after the—well, after Coach Douglas sent me to talk to Ms. Walker. And, since I didn't see you yesterday, and the coach wouldn't tell me anything..."

Daryl's eyebrows shot up. "You asked the coach about me? What, you my keeper now?"

Despite his words, Daryl didn't seem angry. Rick thought he just sounded confused. And maybe a little amused.

Rick sighed. He was already humiliated, might as well take it all the way. "Listen, Daryl, I know we don't know each other, but you're really one of the only people I've met. You were nice to me, and I swear I'm not a stalker, but I thought I'd return the favor. I'd like to be friends if you're willing."

Daryl stared at him as if he had an onion growing out of his ear. Then his face went blank. He seemed to be thinking quickly, judging by the way his eyes were moving quickly around Rick's face.

"Alright," Daryl said slowly. "Though I dunno what you're talkin' about owin' me a favor, seeing as how you lied to Walsh for me. I'd say we're even. I might even owe you somethin'."

Rick smiled at him. Daryl agreed to be his friend. This day was looking up.

"I got a question for you Rick," Daryl continued. Rick nodded at him to ask. "Were you tryin' to keep Woods from showing the coach those pills? Is that why you were in the office glarin' daggers at the douchebag, and your lip was split?"

Rick blushed a little, but nodded. "I saw him going through your bag. I recognized it 'cause of the severed strap," he nodded towards the broken side of Daryl's bag, which was slung across his shoulder. "He said some things… and I hit him."

"What'd he say?" Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head. "It's not important."

Daryl opened his mouth to argue, but the bell rang, giving them three minutes to get to class. Rick hadn't even gone to his locker yet.

"Shit, I gotta run. Books, you know," Daryl said. Rick nodded and said a quick 'see you in class' before heading to his own locker.

This was the best he felt since Monday, if he was being honest.

English passed uneventfully, though more enjoyably than before, as now Daryl spoke to him some. Rick loved to listen to the raspy quality of his voice, though he tried not to show just how much he was mooning over the other boy.

Before he knew it, the bell rang, and Rick rose from his seat and began gathering his things. He turned towards the door and was shocked to see Daryl still standing next to him.

"I thought we could walk together, seein' as how we got the same class next," Daryl said quietly, his gaze fixed somewhere around his shoes.

"Sure," Rick said quickly. Daryl looked up at that, and Rick smiled at him. One corner of the other boy's mouth quirked up a bit, and they both made their way towards the exit.

When they walked into biology together, Mr. Walsh seemed to notice right away. His eyes went wide and he followed their movements as they moved into the room. Daryl sat down at his usual table, and Rick didn't hesitate to take the empty seat next to him.

Daryl looked at him in surprise, though he hid it quickly.

"Do you mind if I sit here? I hate sittin' in the front," Rick said. Daryl shook his head quickly, indicating it was fine.

"Thanks," Rick said. He couldn't help the stupid smile that was spreading on his face, and it looked like Daryl was fighting one himself. Daryl looked away from him, his lip still quirked in the corner.

Mr. Walsh walked up to their table, and leaned against it so he was facing Rick, but his back was to Daryl. Rick felt his jaw tighten in annoyance. "Hey, Rick, how's it goin'?" Mr. Walsh asked. Before he could answer, the man continued. "What're you doin' back here? Your seat is up front."

Rick put on an innocently puzzled expression, though it was difficult relaxing his jaw enough to do so. "Oh, sorry, sir. I didn't realize we had assigned seating."

Mr. Walsh's brow furrowed. "Well, we don't, it's just that—"

Rick, in awe of his own audacity, cut him off. "Well, I'd prefer to sit back here then. Sir."

Mr. Walsh's expression cleared. He stood up so he was facing the table and glanced at Daryl before looking back to Rick. A determined look spread across his face. "See me after class, Mr. Grimes."

Rick gulped. He couldn't believe he was so rude to a teacher. Him. But oddly enough, it felt kinda good. "Okay, sir," he said.

Mr. Walsh turned and walked back to his desk as the bell rang. Rick chanced a look at Daryl, who was staring at him wide-eyed.

"You know what you just done?" Daryl asked. Rick shrugged helplessly. Daryl shook his head dramatically and blew out a breath. "Good luck, man. You're gonna need it. Walsh is a hard ass when he don't like someone. Looks like you mighta just joined that list."

"Shit," Rick said. Then he grinned. He couldn't help it. All Walsh ever did was talk shit about Daryl. And Rick wasn't gonna put up with it anymore.

Daryl smiled back. A real smile. Rick felt his heart jump in his chest a bit, and he memorized the moment. It was the first time that he made Daryl smile. If he had any say in it, though, it definitely wouldn't be the last.

When the bell rang, Daryl stood up to leave, but before he stepped away from the table he gave Rick a quick nod.

Rick figured that was the equivalent of getting a hug from Daryl.

After everyone left the room, Mr. Walsh made his way towards the back of the room, where Rick still sat at his and Daryl's table. Walsh sat in Daryl's seat and turned to face Rick.

"So, Rick, I think we need to have a talk," he said, his face and tone authoritative. "I feel like you're gravitatin' towards people that are bad influences on you, and you need to reevaluate who you make friends with. Now, like I said before, I'd be more than happy to introduce you to some nice kids. Ones that have their priorities straight, and don't get in so much trouble. Now, what d'you say?"

Rick found himself rendered momentarily speechless by Mr. Walsh's words. He soon found his tongue, though. "Mr. Walsh, I'm not sure how to put this delicately, so I'll just be blunt. I choose my own friends. You're my teacher, not my parent, and you have no say about who I hang out with. So, please, stay out of my personal life."

Mr. Walsh looked shocked. "Listen here, Rick—"

"No, you listen, you have no right-"

"You're right, but I do have a responsibility to—"

"To what? Make sure no one is friends with Daryl? You have some kinda grudge against him as far as I can tell—"

"And with good reason!" Mr. Walsh shouted.

Rick clamped his mouth shut, fuming silently. He realized that Mr. Walsh wasn't gonna let this be until he'd had his say. So he'd let him talk.

Maybe then he'd figure out that no matter what he said, Rick wasn't gonna give Daryl up.

No way in hell.

"Rick," Mr. Walsh began, "Daryl's bad news. In fact, his whole family is like a poison to this town. His father is in and out of prison, and is the town drunk when he's out. And his brother Merle," he sighed dramatically. "He was in juvie more times than I can count. And now he's in prison. Daryl's on the same path. Nothing good can come from a friendship with that boy."

Rick found his jaw unclamping rather quickly. "Says who? You? You don't know nothin' about Daryl. You can't judge a person based on his family," he said. "I've had enough of this. If you wanna talk to me about my homework, a test, anything biology, be my guest. But, please, Mr. Walsh, stay outta my life. Daryl's my friend, and he's gonna continue to be my friend." He inhaled deeply. "And forgive my language, Mr. Walsh, but there's not a damn thing you can do to change that."

Rick met Mr. Walsh's eyes, waiting for an acknowledgment that his message had been received. Though he looked as if he loathed to do so, Mr. Walsh nodded briskly, jaw clenched, and stood up to leave the room. He didn't look back.

Rick sighed, and slowly exited the room, making his way towards his locker so that he could go get some lunch.

He had eaten with Glenn and Maggie again the day before. In fact, it was the only enjoyable part of yesterday, if he was being honest.

Today, however, he decided to see if Daryl wanted any company. Though he supposed that blonde girl might be sitting with him again.

He tried not to frown at the thought.

As he got in line for food, Rick scanned the cafeteria. Glenn and Maggie were seated at what Rick assumed was their usual table. Glenn was leaning over and whispering something in Maggie's ear, which made her throw her head back and laugh. Glenn looked up, smiling, and spotted Rick. He waved at him, and Rick smiled, returning the gesture.

Rick continued looking around the room until he spotted Daryl in the far corner, at a table by himself. He couldn't miss this opportunity.

He moved quickly through the food line, just grabbing a pre-made salad, some fruit, and a couple of chocolate milks, before paying and starting to make his way towards Daryl. He stopped beside his table and smiled at the top of Daryl's head, as the boy hadn't looked up from the food he was playing with, rather than eating, yet.

"Hey, Daryl," Rick said. Daryl slowly lifted his head and gazed at Rick with a blank expression on his face. Rick was taken aback by the lack of emotion in his eyes.

"What d'you want?" Daryl asked, no friendliness in his voice. Rick cleared his throat awkwardly and shifted from his left foot to his right.

"W-well, I was wondering if maybe I could sit with you?" Rick winced at how pathetic he sounded. He barreled on nonetheless, "It's just that you're one of the only people I know, and I thought we could eat lunch together…"

Rick clamped his mouth shut to stop his babbling, because with every word, Daryl's face managed to look even colder. By the time Rick had stopped speaking, he was almost ready to run away.

Almost. But he stood his ground, though he imagined the look Daryl was sending him had scared away many people in the past.

"What? You my stalker now? I sit by you in a coupla classes and now you gonna follow me everywhere like some kinda fuckin' puppy? Fuck off, Grimes! I don't want you here!" Daryl yelled. He stood up from the table and made to walk away, but Rick wasn't ready to just let this go.

So he did something that many people would consider stupid. The rest of them would call him suicidal.

He put his tray down on Daryl's table, then stepped in Daryl's way and grabbed his elbow to keep him from leaving. Rick immediately felt Daryl tense under his hand. The students at the tables around them had stopped eating to watch. It seemed they were hoping for a fight.

Well, Rick wasn't gonna give them one. No matter what Daryl did, he wouldn't fight back.

Daryl yanked his arm out of Rick's gasp and spun around to face him. There was something a little wild, or maybe even fearful, in Daryl's eyes as they met Rick's, so he raised both of his hands palms-out to show Daryl that he wouldn't grab him again.

Rick recalled the look in Maggie's eyes when she thought about Daryl's lot in life, and wondered if maybe touching him had been a very bad idea.

"I'm sorry, Daryl. I shouldn't have touched you. It won't happen again, I promise," Rick said. "I just want to talk to you, that's all." Rick saw that Daryl was listening, though he looked like he wanted to bolt from the room.

Rick felt like he was trying to tame a skittish horse.

"D'you mind if we sit down? Or walk, it don't matter to me. I just wanna talk," he repeated.

Daryl seemed to contemplate the request before giving a minute nod. He then turned and walked from the room.

Rick sighed in relief and followed after him, forgetting his lunch on the table.

Rick and Daryl walked the perimeter of the school. It had been five minutes already, and no one had spoken yet.

Daryl seemed to be waiting for Rick to speak—which made sense, as Rick was the one who said he wanted to talk—but Rick was loathe to break the silence. He wasn't sure what happened in the cafeteria, but obviously something had pissed the other boy off.

Or maybe he wasn't pissed. Maybe he was pushing Rick away? He didn't know why Daryl would do that, but he honestly didn't know the other boy all that well.

Or at all, really.

Rick decided to break the silence by asking an innocent question. "So, Daryl, do you live close by?"

Daryl shot Rick a sharp look, then looked away, keeping his eyes on the space in front of him. He quickened his pace a bit.

So maybe that wasn't the most innocent question.

"It's just that I saw you walking onto campus, so I thought you had to live close by…" Rick babbled. He really needed to shut up. Daryl was still ignoring him.

Rick sped up to step in front of Daryl. He spun to face him, palms out again, to show that he wasn't trying to touch Daryl, he just wanted the boy to stop.

Daryl halted in place before his chest made contact with Rick's hands and he moved his blue eyes to look at Rick head-on. Rick flinched at the blankness in them.

"Daryl, I just wanna talk. I'm not gonna touch you, or fight you, or yell. I just thought we were gettin' along earlier, and I wanna know if I did somethin' to piss you off. If I did, I wanna fix it," Rick said calmly.

There was a spark of something in Daryl's eyes, but he quickly smothered it. "Yeah?" he asked harshly. "Well, you can't. This ain't somethin' that can be fixed, Grimes. You best leave me be. If you don't,,, well, you might have to fight whether you wanna or not." His stance was challenging, but his eyes were a riot of suppressed emotions.

Rick got the feeling that Daryl was putting up a wall, throwing out threats to push Rick away. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to give Daryl up. Even if the boy was the one trying to make him leave.

"Listen, Daryl, I've had people warn me away from you from day one here. I got Mr. Walsh stickin' his nose into my personal life to try to get me to leave you alone, and I've had more people than I can count say snide remarks about you. But I think it's all bullshit." Rick definitely saw a spark of something in Daryl's eyes that time; he thought it was anger. Good. Maybe he could push Daryl to react, get him to tell the truth about what the hell was going on.

"You put up this wall, Daryl, and I don't know why you do it, but I'm sure you got your reasons. You're entitled to your privacy, and I won't ask you about anything you don't wanna tell me. But this whole thing you're doin' here, pushin' me away? It ain't gonna work. I'm not goin' anywhere," Rick said, his eyes locked on Daryl's. He held his breath and waited for the other's reaction.

Daryl finally seemed to break out of his stony obstinacy, but the result of Rick's speech was anger, confusion, and something that looked like hurt, or anguish. Rick felt his heart break a little at being the cause of this.

"What the fuck, Grimes? Why do you care? You don't know me. You ever think that all those people," he pointed towards the school, "are right? Maybe you're the idiot for thinkin' there's somethin' worth knowin' here."

Rick shook his head solemnly. "I don't know why I wanna be your friend, honestly. It's just one of those things you can't explain. Before ten minutes ago, you were always nice to me, which sounds trivial, but to me it means a lot," Rick sighed. "I didn't have a lotta friends in my last school."

Daryl gave him a puzzled look, but Rick waved him off. "It's nothing. Just, not everyone is like you. You tell the truth, and you don't suffer fools, and you tell assholes to shove it, even when those assholes are teachers. I admire you, I guess."

Daryl gave a bitter laugh. "Well, don't. I ain't nothin' to admire."

Rick smiled, and forced himself not to put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Well, I beg to differ."

Daryl scowled. "Whatever, Grimes." He shrugged restlessly, and backed away from Rick. His right hand moved up to his mouth and he started to chew on his thumbnail, looking uncomfortable. "I gotta go, got class."

"Right," Rick said. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. Can I sit with you in English and Bio still?"

Daryl lowered his hand and shrugged again. He turned around to walk away and threw his parting words over his shoulder, "You can do whatever the hell you want. Free country."

Rick wasn't sure if he could consider this progress or not.

Rick spent track practice thinking about his conversation with Daryl. He really didn't know what to think. The other boy was an enigma, and Rick got the impression that he was hiding a lot of pain under all of the bravado that he showed to the world.

His last class of the day, Advanced Art, was peaceful compared to today's earlier events. The class had started portraits the day before, and Rick had been partnered up with a quiet, sweet girl named Carol.

She didn't talk much, but Rick got the impression that she was very smart, and there was no arguing that she was a magnificent artist.

He posed for her during the first half of class, and they switched places for the second half so that he could work more on his portrait of her.

Over the years, Rick found that he worked best when he was slightly distracted. Not, say, 'loud music' distracted, but rather 'light conversation' distracted. So, he encouraged Carol to speak to him.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked quietly. Rick smiled at her gently.

"Anything. Ask me something, or tell me about yourself. Or, heck, you can talk about books or movies. Whatever," he replied.

Carol looked pensive for a moment, then began to tell him about the book that she was reading. Rick found himself lost in her description of the protagonist, and was entranced as her narrative of the plot progressed.

He was yanked back to reality when, out of nowhere, she asked him a question. "Did I see you going outside with Daryl Dixon during lunch?"

Rick froze in the middle of drawing her right eyebrow. He looked up at her, a guarded look on his face. He was a terrible liar, so he wouldn't try, but he wasn't gonna talk to her about Daryl if she was gonna be just like everyone else. He was tired of listening to it.

"Yeah," he said shortly, hoping she would get to the point.

"Oh," she said timidly, obviously picking up on Rick's reluctance to talk about it. "So, I guess you're… well…" She looked panicked for a second, and her eyes darted to Rick's. "Not that I care!" she said a bit too loudly. The students around them got quiet, and looked over at them.

Carol turned bright red, and she covered her face with her hands. Rick was confused. He had no idea what she was talking about.

When the other students had gone back to their work, Rick reached over and pulled Carol's hands down so he could see her. "What Carol? You guess we're what?"

"Uh, nothing, it's just. Since you two were, well, I just assumed, but I guess I shoudn't have," she babbled. At Rick's confused look, she put a hand on his, and patted it lightly. "Never mind. It's not important."

Rick was about to open his mouth to prod further, but she cut him off. "He looked angry. Is everything alright?"

Rick shook his head, trying to adjust to this new line of questioning. "Well, it's kinda between us what we were talkin' about."

Carol smiled. "Oh, of course! I didn't mean to pry, I just worry about him, is all."

Now Rick was really confused. She was worried about him? Were they friends?

Carol's smile grew when she saw the bewilderment on Rick's face. "You're not use to people talkin' nice about him, are you?"

Rick shook his head. "Are you friends?" he asked.

Carol tilted her head to the side, contemplating this. "Well… I'll put it this way. There is no one in this school whose motives I trust more than Daryl's. And, before you, I was probably the only person in this school who wouldn't get their head bitten off for talkin' to him."

Rick snorted. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. I saw a brand new side of Daryl today." Rick hesitated, then continued, quietly, "I think it's all talk, though."

Carol raised her eyebrows, an expression like pride on her face. "Oh, I'll agree that most of it is. But Daryl is nothing if not a man of action. He can back up any threats he lays out, he's just never the one to throw the first punch."

Rick nodded, finding that his assessment of Daryl fit this description. "So, how long have you know him?"

"I'm not sure that anybody really knows him, but I come pretty close, I guess. Relatively." Carol gave Rick an appraising look, clearly determining whether he deserved to hear this story. She took a deep breath.

"I met Daryl in the second grade. I was even skinnier then, pigtails, braces; a real bully magnet. There was this one boy, Eddie, who picked on me constantly. He pulled my hair, threw rocks at me, pushed me in the mud during recess. Most of it was pretty harmless, but sometimes other kids would join in, you know? That pack mentality." She looked sad for a moment, but then her expression cleared, and she continued.

"One day, a bunch of the kids had gathered around me, and pushed me into the mud. Eddie was holding me down, and I couldn't breathe, because my face was in the mud. I don't know if he would've gotten up in time. I don't think he was trying to kill me; he liked to see me struggle, though." She paused for a moment, remembering. Rick was digusted.

"I was close to passing out; I was terrified, and thought I was going to die. Out of nowhere, Daryl jumps on Eddie, knocks him to the ground. I was finally able to breathe, and I wiped my face off to look at my savior… and Daryl was holding Eddie down and looking over at me, seeing if I was alright. I was still crying, but, God, I was so thankful."

Rick was shocked. He'd dealt with bullies before, he'd had more than his share, but he'd never heard of one first-hand that was so cruel. "What happened to Eddie?" Rick asked, barely restraining the anger he felt in speaking the kid's name.

Carol gave him a bittersweet smile. "He was expelled. Not before Daryl beat the shit out of him, though. Well, as much as one second-grader can beat up another." At Rick's shocked expression, she laughed. "What, are you surprised that he beat him up?"

Rick shook his head, "No, I didn't expect to hear you curse." At this, Carol laughed louder. Rick couldn't help but join in. "You're just so quiet!"

Carol sent him a mischievous look, "Well, you don't know me yet, Rick, but when you do, you'll know that this sweet persona? It's all an act. Underneath, there's a badass waiting to come out."

Rick threw his head back and laughed. Somehow, he didn't doubt a word.

Rick went home on Thursday with his mind a whirlwind. He'd heard so many different things today, and seen at least two different sides to Daryl that he hadn't before. He guessed that it was normal to feel surprised when you realized just how complex another person was, but was it always this quick? Weren't people basically two-dimensional until you really got to know them?

Daryl, though, seemed to have more personalities than Rick could keep count of. Honestly, he was starting to get a headache from all of it.

Rick spent that evening with his family, as it was Family Game Night—a tradition started when Rick was five. Carl pretended to hate it, but Rick could see right through him. His baby brother couldn't get anything past him.

"Carl, I got a call from your teacher today. She said you didn't do your homework?" his mom said. She sent Carl a disappointed look as the boy's ears burned—it must be genetic, Rick thought.

Carl looked down at the table, and said quietly, "Sorry, Mom."

"Well?" his dad said. "What were you doing that was so much more important than your schoolwork?"

Carl mumbled unintelligibly.

"What was that?" his Dad asked.

"He said he was playing that video game, Jimmy. That zombie one you got him, right Carl?"

Carl nodded.

"I knew it," him mom said. "Well, no games for a week, then. And I want to see your homework tonight before you go to bed, alright?"

Carl nodded again, and finally looked up at his parents. "I'm really sorry. I just got carried away, and I forgot what time it was…"

"No excuses, son. You know the rules. Self-responsibility, right?" his dad said, gently. "Just admit your mistake, and make up for it."

"Ok, Dad. I'll do my homework after this game."

His mom smiled at Carl, and then looked to Rick.

"So, honey, how was school today?" she asked him.

Rick shrugged noncommittally. "It was alright. I yelled at a teacher."

"What!" his mom said, shocked. Rick smiled. He'd said that just to see her reaction.

"What d'you mean, son?" his dad asked.

Rick looked to his dad, then met his mom's eyes. "It was nothing Mom, honest. Mr. Walsh, he's my Biology teacher, he kept butting into my personal life, telling me who I should be friends with. I told him to mind his own."

Rick's mom furrowed her brows in confusion. "Why would he be telling you who to be friends with?"

"There's this one kid in class, Daryl Dixon. He hates him. Tries to keep anyone from befriending him. But I like Daryl, he's always been nice to me," Rick explained.

"Well, did you ever think that maybe he know something about this Daryl that you don't?" his dad asked. Rick didn't take offence; he knew his dad was just cautious.

"He told me what was so horrible about Daryl," Rick said. "His family is kinda… well, his dad's a drunk, according to Mr. Walsh. And his older brother's in jail. I don't know what for," he said quickly, before either of them could ask.

"Hm," his mom said, apparently in deep thought. Rick knew his parents wouldn't react the way that Mr. Walsh had, judging Daryl because of his family. "Well, what d'you like about Daryl? You said he was nice to you?"

"Yeah," Rick said, perking up a bit at the chance to talk about Daryl to people who wouldn't judge him like the people in school. "I have two classes with him, and I sat with him today. He's sarcastic, and socially awkward. But he's so refreshingly honest, you know? He doesn't pretend to like someone if he doesn't, and he doesn't waste words."

"Waste words?" his dad asked.

"Yeah, you know, small talk. Doesn't gossip, or talk just to fill the silence. If he talks, he's got somethin' to say."

His mom smiled slyly. "Yes, you would like someone like that. You don't suffer fools."

"That's what I said about him earlier!" Rick exclaimed, smiling. His mom smiled back.

"Wait a minute…" his dad said. "Daryl Dixon. Beth, honey, when the principal called the other day about Rick's fighting, he mentioned Daryl's name, didn't he?"

His mom nodded. "You're right." She looked to Rick. "Was he involved?"

Rick sighed. "Well, not really. This kid was trying to steal something out of Daryl's bag, and I told him to stop. He refused, and said something awful about Daryl. So… I punched him."

His dad smirked proudly, but his mom looked vaguely reproachful. "You know violence isn't the answer, right?"

Rick sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

From his seat at the table, Carl snorted. "Yeah, right. You're violent towards me everyday."

Rick grinned. The kid had a point.


	5. We couldn't bring the columns down

Chapter 5— We couldn't bring the columns down

Daryl swallowed his morning pill on Friday morning, and counted how many he had left. Fifteen.

Fuck, that meant he had to hit Casey up before the end of the day. He only had enough until Tuesday, and maybe even less than that if he needed to take extra.

He made sure to bring a travel-sized mouthwash to school that day.

Daryl walked to school slowly, smoking a cigarette on the way. His thoughts were mostly centered on a slender, blue-eyed brunette and he found himself imagining that Rick was walking with him. He thought about what Rick might say, and how Daryl would answer with some funny comment that would cause the other boy to toss his head back and laugh.

Daryl imagined having the social skills to actually keep someone as beautiful as Rick interested for longer than a fuck or two.

He snorted. He didn't know why he dwelled on fantasies that were impossible. Rick would keep trying to get to know him, and then when he succeeded in learning a little about him, he would bail.

Just like everyone else in his worthless life.

Daryl was used to being alone. He had become accustomed to the fact that he would always be a solitary person. No one would ever try to understand him, and no one was really worth the effort to get to know.

Daryl felt his mind recoil at this last thought. There was a part of him that wanted to be friends with Rick, maybe more if Rick was interested—Daryl still couldn't tell—but the other, larger part told him that it was pointless.

Daryl would admit, though, that he had been rather surprised when Rick had called him out on trying to push the other boy away. No one had ever stuck around after Daryl started yelling.

After Rick stayed behind for his meeting with Walsh, Daryl had time to think about what exactly this chat was gonna be about. Most likely, because Walsh had never been hard on Rick before, it was about Daryl. Walsh was gonna try to convince him to stay away.

At this thought, Daryl had ignored the small twinge in his stomach. It wouldn't matter, he thought. It's not like we're friends or something. When Rick had shown up at his table, Daryl had figured it was just a matter of time before Rick decided that a friendship with Daryl wasn't worth the effort. With students and teachers alike trying to tell him how worthless Daryl was, it was a wonder that Rick wasn't already avoiding him.

So, Daryl decided to head off the inevitable rejection by pushing Rick away first.

Only, to Daryl's surprise, it hadn't worked. Rick had seen through him.

Smirking to himself, Daryl stubbed out his third cigarette of the morning and entered the school. He made his way to his locker and pulled out his English and Bio books.

The bell rang as he shut his locker, and he turned towards his English class. Upon entering, he saw Rick seated in the back row next to Daryl's usual seat.

He ignored the relief spreading in his belly.

Rick smiled at him as he sat down, and Daryl looked down at his desk.

Daryl was late to Bio because he made a detour to let Casey know that he needed a refill at lunchtime. The asshat made sure to let him know that he would be needing more than a blowjob for the late notice, and Daryl flipped him off as he turned to jog to his next class.

He took his seat next to Rick, ignoring the glare that Walsh sent him. Rick turned to meet his eyes, concern written on his face.

Daryl gave him a nod and focused his gaze on the tabletop. They didn't have a chance to speak for the rest of class, because the windbag Walsh spent the whole time lecturing.

After the bell rang for the end of the period, Rick stood from his seat and turned to smile down at Daryl, who was shoving his books in his bag. "Lunch?" Rick asked.

"Nah," Daryl replied. He felt a twinge of regret when Rick's face fell slightly. "I gotta meet someone, but I'll catch you on Monday, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Rick replied.

Daryl shouldered his bag and walked to the gym where he was meeting Casey. He opened one of the double doors, checking to make sure no one was watching before slipping inside. Someone grabbed him before his eyes had a chance to adjust to the darkness, and Daryl reacted reflexively: he swung his right fist towards whoever it was.

"Ow! Fuck, D, why'd you do that?" Daryl heard. His eyes had adjusted a bit, and he could make out Casey's skinny frame and red hair.

"Shit, Casey, you tryin' to give me heart attack? Don't you know nothin'? Don't fucking grab me!" Daryl hissed at him. They had to be quiet or they'd be caught.

"Sorry, bro, but that's no reason to break my fuckin' nose!" Casey said, his voice high in indignation.

Daryl sighed in annoyance and move closer to the idiot. Honestly.

He grasped Casey's chin with his hand and held his face still as he inspected his nose. There wasn't any blood. He pinched the bridge of Casey's nose with his other hand and tried to keep from laughing as Casey yelped in pain.

"Not broken, man. Sorry I hit you," Daryl said. "You got my stuff?"

Casey sent him a reproachful look, but then smirked. "Course, dude. I ever let you down before?"

Daryl shrugged. "Alright. What'll it be?" He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice. After his last supplier got busted, Casey was the only one at school with the connections he needed. He couldn't piss him off.

"I wanna fuck you," Casey said, an eager grin on his face.

Fuck, Daryl thought. He sighed. Fucking pervert couldn't get someone to sleep with him without bribing them first.

"Fine. You got some slick?" he asked. Casey reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of flavored lubricant. Cherry. Fucking idiot.

"How you wanna do this?" Daryl asked.

Casey furrowed his brow. "What d'you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, you want me bent over the bleachers? Want me to ride you? What the fuck do you want?" Daryl was losing his patience, and he bit down on his tongue to keep from shouting obscenities.

"Oh!" The eager look came back to Casey's face. "Bend over the bleachers over there." He pointed to the set nearest to them, and started to walk towards them.

Daryl held in a sigh. He wasn't surprised with Casey's choice. He seemed the type to want to feel like he was in control.

Daryl unbuttoned his pants as he walked over to the bleachers and lowered them to his knees after stepping in front of Casey, his back to him. He was going commando, so he was bared to him from the waist down.

"You know how to prep?" Daryl asked. Casey shook his head. Daryl scoffed—he couldn't help it- and made to grab the lube from him, but Casey held it out of reach and glared at Daryl.

"Maybe we don't need it, eh, Daryl?" Daryl's eyes went wide before he could stop them, and he shook his head.

"Don't even think about it, Casey," he said, pulling his pants back up around his hips. He felt exposed.

"Why not, Dixon? You not man enough? I bet you do it all the time with your little fag boyfriend. What's his name? The new guy. Rick Grimes, that's it. Bet Rick fucks you dry all the time," Casey sneered.

Daryl clenched his fists tightly and forced himself to stay where he was. "Shut the fuck up, Casey. I'm not doin' it dry. Now give me the fuckin' lube and let's get this over with so I can get my fuckin' stash."

Apparently this had been the wrong thing to say, because Casey's face turned red, and he threw the lube on the ground. "Fuck this. I'm outta here. You can get your shit somewhere else."

"What? Fuck, man, what's your problem?" Daryl couldn't let this happen.

"Fuck you! I don't have a problem," Casey hissed. "Go ask your fuckin' boyfriend if he'll get you some shit if you give him one of your shitty blowjobs."

Daryl was utterly confused, and his temper was rising with every word Casey said. "Watch your fuckin' mouth, shithead. That's the second time you've talked shit about Grimes. You do it again, you're losin' teeth."

Casey scoffed. "Like you'd have the balls, man. You need me. You're not gonna blow me off to protect that little fag—"

Daryl hit him with a right punch to the jaw, and Casey fell to the floor. Daryl straddled him to hold him down and punched him once more for good measure.

"Keep your fuckin' pills, asshole," Daryl spit. He stood up to leave, but glanced down at the groaning boy once more before he departed.

"And just so you know: you got the smallest dick I've ever seen." Then he left.

For the rest of the school day, Daryl thought about what the hell had happened earlier. What was he thinking? He needed more pills, and he just punched the only guy he knew who could get 'em.

Daryl's mind flashed to the things the little dickhead had been saying about Rick, and his jaw clenched. If Casey were standing in front of him, he'd hit him again.

Rick was the only person who ever gave Daryl the time of day. Carol sent him smiles sometimes, and he would often find post-it notes in his locker with inspirational quotes on them that he knew were from her. But they weren't really friends. She was just grateful, is all.

If he hadn't helped her out, she might never have noticed him.

Rick, though. Rick helped him. He lied for him, to a teacher. And then he took on Phillip Woods to try to keep Daryl out of trouble.

Daryl honestly couldn't figure out the boy's motivations.

But one thing was for sure: his mind had decided that protecting Rick was more important than getting his fucking pills whether he wanted it to or not.

Daryl walked through the parking lot, averting the swerving cars and trying not to get hit. He had work again today, and a longer walk than the days he was walking straight home.

He preferred the last three days of the school week, because he had a reason to be out of the house for the entire afternoon and evening, and he got paid to work on motorcycles, which he would do for free.

But it was fucking nice to make some money.

Daryl was almost out of the parking lot when a jeep pulled up next to him. He kept his head down, because he wasn't in the mood to fight, or fuck, or whatever the hell the person wanted from him. Until he heard who it was, that is.

"Hey, Daryl!"

He turned around, and saw Rick in the driver's side of the jeep, a smile on his face. Daryl nodded to him and made to turn around to keep walking, but Rick stopped him with his next words.

"Can I drive you somewhere?" Daryl looked at Rick, to determine whether the boy was serious, then walked to the passenger side door. Honestly, Rick seemed to be the only person who didn't have some secret motive nowadays. Except Carol, of course.

As Daryl made himself comfortable in the jeep, Rick looked over to him and smiled, then eased his way back into traffic. "Seatbelt, please," he said.

Daryl rolled his eyes. "What are you, a cop?" he sneered.

Rick's smile grew. "No, but I also don't wanna be stopped by one."

Daryl buckled his seatbelt, grumbling the whole way.

"So, where am I taking you?" Rick asked. Daryl indicated for him to turn left on the main road.

"Goin' to work," Daryl stated simply.

"Oh?" Rick asked, his eyebrows raised. "Where is that?"

"Off this road here," Daryl said. He had to admit, he was having a bit of fun with this.

Rick rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Daryl! I mean what what d'you do?"

Daryl couldn't help but let a small laugh escape. Rick looked startled, then quickly covered it and focused on the road. "I'm a mechanic. Work on motorcycles."

"Oh," Rick said, seemingly intrigued. "Do you have one? A motorcycle, I mean?"

"Nah," Daryl said. "'m savin' up for one, though." He sniffed, and unconsciously started nibbling on his right thumb.

There was silence in the car for a moment, then Rick spoke again, more timid than Daryl'd ever heard it before.

"Daryl, I know this is none of my business," he began, "so tell me to fuck off, and I will, but… those pills? Are they… recreational drugs? Or medication?"

Daryl continued chewing on his thumb, contemplating what to say. His gut reaction was to tell him, which was a surprise. His usual instinct when someone asked about something personal was to shut them down.

But Rick wasn't just anyone, it seemed.

Daryl sighed. Looked like he was gonna tell him, then.

"Nah, they're not illegal," he said. "Well, the way I got 'em was, but they're prescription, and I use 'em how I'm s'posed to," he amended.

Rick looked over to him, eyes curious, and waited for Daryl to continue.

"Turn right here," Daryl said. They'd reached the garage. Rick pulled in to Horvath's Motorcycle Repair and parked in front of the main office. He turned off the car.

"So, d'you have to leave now?"

Daryl hesitated. "I got a minute or two. Usually walk, so I'm early."

Rick nodded, and waited.

Daryl lowered his hand from his mouth. He took a breath in, and released it slowly. "I got a… condition, I guess. Get panic attacks sometimes. The pills were Xanax, they help, if I take 'em regular."

Rick nodded slowly. "And you… had to get them from a dealer?"

Daryl nodded. "I used to have insurance, through my brother. Or… well, he had insurance, and I…" Daryl clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't believe he was telling someone this, he hadn't told anyone.

Merle was gonna kill him.

Yeah, when he got outta jail, Daryl thought.

"Daryl," Rick said, bringing his attention back to the present. "I'm not gonna tell anyone. I swear. Not a soul." He paused. "You used your brother's insurance to see the doctor? And get the pills you needed?"

Daryl nodded, uneasy with the information that Rick had over him, but not as panic stricken as he had expected to be when someone found out.

Daryl snorted. Found out, my ass, he thought. I fucking told him.

Rick kept his eyes on Daryl's face, and there was nothing but concern coming from him. Now Daryl was really confused.

"So, when your brother went to jail, you had to find the pills elsewhere, I'm guessing," Rick said.

Daryl started to nod, but then halted when he processed Rick's words. "What the fuck? What d'you know about my brother?"

Rick's eyes widened. "Oh, uh…"

Daryl cut him off. "Someone at school told you? Who knows?" He recalled going to visit his brother the week before, and who he had seen coming out of the jail when he was going in.

Fuck, now he was pissed.

"Walsh?" he yelled. "Fuckin' Walsh has been spreadin' this shit around?"

Rick hesitated, and closed his eyes sadly. He nodded.

"Damn it!" Daryl opened the door and grabbed his bag, then made a beeline for the garage.

Rick got out on his side, and rounded the car to catch up with Daryl. "I'm sorry, Daryl! It was yesterday, when he held me after. You remember?"

Daryl stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. He nodded.

Rick sighed in relief when Daryl stopped, and moved around in front of him. Daryl kept his gaze on the ground. He was seething.

"He was tellin' me shit, sayin' he could help me find different friends. I told him to mind his own business, and that he had a vendetta against you," Rick said quickly. It seemed like he was trying to get it all out before Daryl walked away again.

At Rick's words, Daryl looked up. Rick had told off a teacher? He couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. He was a little proud, he had to admit.

A small laugh escaped Rick when he took in Daryl's expression. "He said he had good reason not to like you, and told me about your brother. Said you were headed on the same path."

Daryl looked away from Rick's gaze. Damn it, he thought. Why the fuck was Rick still here after what Walsh told him?

Rick took a step closer to Daryl, but didn't touch him. For that, Daryl was thankful. He couldn't handle that right now.

"I told him that he didn't know nothin' about you, and to mind his own business. I choose my friends," he said, much more quietly.

Daryl sniffed, and met Rick's gaze again. He sneered. "And you choose me, huh? You sure your not the one that needs medicatin'?"

Rick laughed, and smiled at Daryl, who shrugged uncomfortably. He started to move around Rick, trying to get to the garage.

"Hey, wait, Daryl," Rick said.

Daryl stopped and looked at him. "I'm sorry. About what Walsh said. He's not right, you know. Your family isn't you. You can be whatever, whoever you want." He smiled gently.

Daryl took this in, realizing what Rick had unintentionally revealed. Again. He wasn't mad, though. There was no reason to be, really. Rick didn't judge him based on his brother, so he didn't expect him to because of his old man. "My family, huh? He told you more than just that Merle was in jail?"

Rick's eyes widened in apprehension. "Uh… he said somethin' about your dad's drinkin'… and bein' in and outta jail, too." He blew out a breath. "I'm sorry, Daryl. Walsh is a dick."

Daryl laughed a bit before he could stop it. He smirked. "No worries. 'm glad you see him for what he is, but… 'm sorry, too. That you had to sit through listenin' to my drama just 'cause you decided to sit next to me."

Rick shook his head. He raised his hand as if to pat Daryl's shoulder, but stopped short, his expression becoming stricken before he dropped his arm quickly.

Daryl was relieved he hadn't touched him, but confused about what just happened. "What was that?" he asked.

Rick shook his head, ashamed. "I almost touched you without thinkin'. Sorry."

Daryl sighed. "Honestly, Grimes. You apologize more than a whore in a confessional."

Rick laughed.

"Why're you sorry?"

It was Rick's turn to shrug this time. "When I grabbed your arm in the cafeteria. I noticed how tense you got. I just… thought maybe you're not a huge fan of bein' touched, is all."

Daryl was astounded. Rick was probably the first person to catch on to all of his 'don't fucking touch me' signals. And this kid was new here!

"You're right. Well, kinda. I don't mind touchin', I just like to be in control…" Daryl trailed off, realizing how much of a freak he was.

Rick smiled kindly. "I understand."

Daryl nodded briskly. "I gotta go, Rick. See you next week."

Rick looked surprised at the sudden brush off, but shrugged it off. "Yeah. See you Monday."

Daryl walked to the garage, forcing his mind to focus on the work ahead of him, and not on the boy walking away.

Daryl worked until ten o'clock that night. He was meticulously wiping down a Ducati Diavel Carbon, running the cloth over the smooth black bike, when Dale walked up to him.

"Hey, Daryl, I'm fixin' to close up shop. You about done?"

Daryl looked up at the old man and nodded. "Just finished this up for Mr. Jones."

Dale whistled appreciatively. "Yeah, she's a real beauty. Morgan's gonna be happy with your work."

Daryl shrugged uncomfortably. He wasn't real used to praise.

He noticed that Dale was watching him with understanding in his eyes, so he moved to stand up and walked over to the lockers to gather his things.

"Come on, son. I'll give you a ride home," Dale said as he locked the door behind them.

"Nah, 's alright. I can walk," Daryl said. Every damn week they went through this at least once, but the old man never let up.

"You sure?" he asked. Again.

"Yep. See you tomorrow Horvath." Daryl turned to start his walk home.

"Same here, Dixon," Dale said. Daryl heard him sigh before the man got in his junker to drive away.

Daryl used the hour or so it took to get home to organize his thoughts. He needed pills, pronto. He had taken an extra one today, because his anxiety was way up after his fight with Casey and the talk with Rick.

Maybe he'd ask Merle if he knew a supplier. Might not work, as the visits were supervised, but he might be able to get his problem across without having to spell it out. Not a lot of people knew it, but Merle was a smart fucker.

When he wasn't high, anyway.

If Merle couldn't help, he was basically fucked. And not in the good way.

So, he'd visit Merle tomorrow. And, against everything he believed in, hope for the best.

Visiting hours at the jail were between eleven and noon on Saturday, which gave Daryl an hour to get back for work after his visit. He ran to the shop to ask Dale if he could borrow his car around ten, and Dale was so shocked that Daryl was actually asking for a favor that he agreed immediately.

Daryl was anxious as he drove the thirty minutes to the prison. He took an extra pill to head off any attacks, which only pissed him off more.

It was like some kind of endless fucking cycle.

Daryl parked and strode up to the building, pulling out his ID for the guard on duty. He was waived through after he signed the visitor's log, and then led through some depressingly gray hallways.

He was shown into the visitor's room, and he took a seat at one of the tables farthest from the entrance. Since Merle got discharged from the army, he liked to be in a position to see the entire room, and the table was in the best position for that.

He waited for a few minutes, his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation, before he heard a buzz, and he looked up to see Merle being led toward him. He stood up automatically to greet his brother, and had to stop himself from reaching out to hug him.

Damn, but it was a relief to see him.

Merle shot him a huge grin while Daryl took in the differences in his brother since the last time he saw him, about a month ago. He was even leaner, yet more muscled than he was before. And he was in good shape before. His hair was shaved now, and the bright orange jumpsuit was jarring to the eyes.

But he still had the same smile. And when he met Merle's gaze, the eyes of the only person that he could count on not to hurt him looked back at him.

"Hey baby brother!" Merle said loudly. "Long time no see, son. Thought you'd forgotten 'bout ol' Merle. Haven't seen ya since they locked me up!"

Daryl smiled sheepishly. "I know, man. I'm sorry." He gestured to the table, and they both took a seat. Daryl observed Merle as the man took in everyone in the room. "How you been, Merle? 's it as bad as the old man says?"

"Nah, you know he's a pussy. He was prob'ly someone's bitch when he was here. 's alright, nothin' I can't handle," Merle boasted.

Daryl didn't doubt it. He'd never seen a situation that Merle couldn't handle. Not since they were kids, anyway.

"Listen, Merle. You know that project you was helpin' me out with a couple months ago?" He widened his eyes meaningfully.

Merle caught on immediately. There wasn't much that Daryl asked of him. "Yeah, sure. What, you need more?"

"Yeah, man. It's gonna be late startin' Tuesday, and the guy that was helpin' me bailed. You know anyone?"

Merle shook his head slowly, regretfully. "Sorry, brother. You're on your own on this one. I wish I could help you out, but with me in here, it's hard to help on your project, you know. Don't have the… connections I did out there."

Daryl sighed. He was afraid of this. "It's alright, Merle. I'll figure it out."

"Sure you will, brother, you're a Dixon!" Merle said, his exuberance back. Daryl couldn't help but smile. "How's everythin' else? The old man treatin' you right?"

Daryl snorted. "'bout the same as he ever did. It's all good though, no complaints. Workin' at Dale's; said I might be as good as you before the year is out if I keep at it."

Merle scoffed. "Son, you'd best keep to your studies, 'cause ain't no way you're gonna be as good a mechanic as me in a coupla months."

Daryl smiled mischievously. "Yeah, we'll see. Listen, man, I gotta roll. Got work in an hour, and I gotta get some lunch."

Merle nodded. "Sure, Darlena. Thanks for stoppin' by. Come back sometime." He suddenly got a stern expression on his face. "Not the way I did, though. Don't go doin' stupid shit like stealin' parts. Things get that bad, you tell me. I'll figure somethin' out."

Daryl nodded, his expression somber. He'd take his brother's words to heart.

He always did.

"I'll see you later, bro."

"Yeah, later," Merle said, standing to let the guard know he was finished. He held his hand out to Daryl, and they shook.

Daryl headed out of the jail that day more desperate than he went in.

That night, Daryl tried to relieve his anxiety the only way he knew how without medication. He called Martinez, an old friend of Merle's, to come over and help him out.

Martinez was the one who introduced him to the wonderful world of bisexuality. He was the first guy Daryl let fuck him.

Daryl got home at the same time he saw Martinez pulled up on his bike. He turned off the engine and hopped off, walking over to meet Daryl in the yard.

"What's up, Dixon, Jr?" He asked, a smug grin on his face. "You miss me that bad, huh? What, high school pussy no good?"

Daryl smirked back. "Fuck you. Just didn't wanna deal with the clinginess is all. You're not that good."

Martinez stuck his tongue out at him, and Daryl shot forward to take it into his mouth. They kissed roughly for a moment before Daryl pulled away.

"Need to go inside; don't want my dad to see," he said. Martinez nodded and followed him in.

Daryl led him into his bedroom quietly, and closed and locked the door behind them. Daryl began unbuttoning his shirt, and shrugged it off his shoulders before turning to face Martinez.

To his surprise, the other man had completely stripped already, and was lying back on the bed, his hard prick sticking straight up, and was wiggling his fingers at Daryl to join him.

Daryl couldn't help but grin at his eagerness. He shed his pants, boots, and socks, gave his own erection a quick squeeze, and lay down next to Martinez, placing his hand on the man's chest and starting to rub.

He drew small circles on his chest, avoiding his nipples, which caused Martinez to groan and arch up into his hand. Daryl had a flash of what Rick would look like if he were to arch like that.

What the fuck? Where had that come from?

He shook his, trying to put himself back in the moment. Martinez had had enough of Daryl's teasing, and was stroking his own hard cock, and reaching his head up for a kiss. Unthinkingly, Daryl pulled back before they made contact, and his hand stopped on Martinez's chest.

He didn't want to do this.

What the fuck? Of course he wanted to do this! Martinez was hot, and willing, and naked, for God's sake.

Daryl reached for Martinez's cock, and gave it a rough pull before lowering himself on the bed and taking it into his mouth. What he couldn't fit in his mouth, he wrapped his hand around, stroking up and down.

Martinez moaned and put his hand in Daryl's hair, forgetting the rules momentarily. When he felt Daryl stiffen, however, he removed his hand and muttered an apologetic, "sorry."

Daryl continued his ministrations, and tried to keep his mind from straying to Rick. The more he tried to keep from thinking of the boy, though, the more he wished it were him laid out on this bed. He wanted it to be blue eyes, not brown, that he met when he looked up.

He wanted to see the perfect, pale skin of Rick Grimes under him, not the warm tan glow of Martinez's.

At this thought, he felt his cock start to wilt.

Aware that he had stopped moving his mouth around Martinez's prick, he pulled off and shot Martinez an apologetic grimace. He moved up in the bed, but kept his hand wrapped around the man's prick, pulling roughly.

Martinez's moans got louder, and he grasped the bed sheets with both of his hands, his body arching up into Daryl's hand, thrusting with each pull.

He came with a cry, his come covering his stomach and Daryl's hand, and sighed in satisfaction.

"Wow, man," he said breathlessly. "Didn't expect you to pull off, but that was good." He gave Daryl a lazy smile. "Want me to do you?" He didn't reach for Daryl without his permission. He'd only made that mistake once.

"Nah," Daryl said, sitting up and reaching for his pants.

"What?" Martinez asked, confusion in his voice.

"Just leave, man. I got somethin' I forgot to do, and I gotta do it now. I'll see you later."

He felt Martinez slide forward and stand up from the bed. He shrugged. "Whatever, dude. I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Daryl said quietly. "Sure."

He watched Martinez leave, and wondered what the fuck had just happened.

NOTES: I want to apologize for the scene at the end. I know it's terrible, but it was first time writing anything graphic like that. Hopefully I'll improve by the time Rick and Daryl get around to doing it :)


	6. I cut his hair myself one night

Chapter 6—I cut his hair myself one night

Over the weekend, Rick found himself preoccupied by Daryl's confession.

The boy had a panic disorder, and had committed insurance fraud in order to get treatment for it. Rick understood what it meant for Daryl to share this with someone, and he had the feeling that perhaps he was the first to hear the true story.

He didn't really know what to make of that.

On the one hand, he was freaking thrilled that Daryl had enough trust in him to tell him something that big. That he told Rick something that could get him in trouble with the law if Rick broke that trust.

Rick would never break that trust, though. Not for anything.

On the other hand, Rick felt compelled to do something for Daryl; to help him. Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole lot he could do. Even though he told Rick what was going on, he was under no illusions that Daryl would accept any form of help. Daryl would view it as charity, or pity.

So, Rick couldn't try to give him money.

Maybe he could let Daryl use his insurance. He balked at this idea, though, not just because it could get him in trouble, but because it would bring Daryl back to where he started: breaking the law and risking getting caught every time he went to the doctor.

To his frustration, Rick was stumped.

On Monday morning, Rick woke up with the determination that he would talk to Daryl about what he could do. Maybe if they talked it out, they could think of something together.

If Daryl was willing to, that is.

As he entered English, Rick saw that Daryl wasn't in class yet, so he took his usual seat near the back. After the late bell rang, and Daryl still hadn't entered, Rick started to get worried.

Daryl was usually one of the last ones in the door, but Rick had never seen him be this late for English. Maybe he had found a new supplier?

Just as this thought entered his mind, the door opened to reveal Daryl, who walked quickly to his seat and sat down.

"Mr. Dixon, you know that tardiness is not tolerated in my class. I'll need you to write me a one-page paper, to be handed in first thing in the morning, on why we are not late to class," she said.

Daryl nodded distractedly, his gaze shifting from the teacher, to the students around him, then to the floor.

Rick's brow furrowed in concern. Daryl was acting jittery, his leg bouncing under the desk, as if he couldn't keep still.

He wondered if Daryl had run out of pills. God, he hoped not.

He attempted to make eye contact with the boy, but Daryl was nervously going through his bag to get some pen and paper for note taking.

When Ms. Thomas's back was turned to the class, Rick's arm shot out to bridge the distance between them, and he tapped Daryl's desk softly. At last, Daryl's blue eyes met his, and Rick was shocked at how bloodshot they were.

Rick raised his eyebrows, as if to say, 'Everything okay?'

Daryl nodded briskly and broke eye contact, turning his attention back to the notebook in front of him.

Rick was hard pressed to keep his attention on English after that.

When the bell rang to go to second period, Rick stood to make sure that Daryl didn't get away before he had a chance to speak with him.

He kept pace with the boy as they entered the hallway, and stepped in front of him as soon as the crowd thinned a bit.

"You alright, Daryl?" he asked.

Daryl nodded again, and tried to go around him. Rick held his hands up, palms out—this stance was becoming too familiar, he thought—to keep Daryl from leaving.

"Are you out of pills?" he asked, his voice lowered.

Daryl's eyes narrowed, and he shot a look around to make sure no one had heard. "Mind your own, Grimes. It's not your concern."

Rick frowned. "It is if you ran out, Daryl. You're my friend. I wanna help."

Daryl sighed, his antagonism vanishing. "Yeah, well, you can't," he said, not unkindly. "Don't worry about me, Rick. I got it under control."

For some reason, Rick didn't believe him. He wasn't gonna tell Daryl that, though, so he nodded, and moved out of the boy's way. They walked into Biology together and took their seats.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Walsh said from the front of the room. "Get out your textbooks and turn to page 108, we'll be learning about the different Kingdoms today."

Rick noted that when Daryl reached for his book, his hands were shaking convulsively. He held in his instinct to grab his hand to steady it, and maybe offer comfort. Touching Daryl would most likely add to his anxiety, if anything.

For the next thirty minutes, the class listened to Mr. Walsh lecture about the differences between Fungi and Protists. Well, almost everybody did. Daryl seemed to be concentrating on remaining calm.

And Rick focused on Daryl.

As Rick was wondering about what the withdrawal symptoms of Xanax could be, Mr. Walsh called on him to answer a question.

Oh, shit. He had no idea what he asked.

Rick shook his head to clear it, and smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Walsh. Could you repeat that, please?"

Mr. Walsh shot him a stern look. "I asked if you would pass back these tests, Mr. Grimes." He held the papers out to Rick.

He stood to take them from his teacher, and looked at the top page to see the name written there. He walked across the room to hand it to the correct student, and was just placing the paper on her desk, when he heard a crash.

His head shot up to locate the origin of the noise, and as he saw Daryl writhing on the floor, he figured that his earlier wonderings were answered.

This is what happened when you stopped taking Xanax.

Rick practically jumped the table in front of him to reach Daryl's side, where he knelt, unsure what to do.

Daryl was tense, his back arching off of the floor, his whole body shaking. He was having a seizure.

Rick, recalling what he'd learned in camp a couple of years back, knew that Daryl needed room so that he wouldn't hurt himself.

He realized that Mr. Walsh and the students had all moved close to see what was going on, and were chattering nervously.

"Dixon! What's going on?" Mr. Walsh asked stupidly.

"Everybody get back! Give him some room!" Rick yelled. He grabbed the chair that Daryl had fallen off of and moved it farther away. He shoved the tables farther back, and, when he realized that his words were having little to no affect on the onlookers, started pushing students back.

"You need to put something in his mouth!" one student yelled. "He'll swallow his tongue!"

"No, he won't, that's an urban legend," another one said. An argument ensued, and Rick had had enough.

"Shut up!" he shouted. "Everyone back up, and shut up! We just have to wait it out."

At that, he turned to keep his gaze locked on Daryl, who, at that moment, stopped convulsing. He lay still, his eyes closed, and let out a pained moan.

"What the hell?" Mr. Walsh said quietly. He made to move forward, but Rick held him back, a fierce look on his face. He wasn't letting him near Daryl.

Mr. Walsh met his gaze and frowned. "I'm just going to see if he's alright," he said cautiously.

Rick held his gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly. The pair of them knelt on either side of Daryl. Rick, unable to help himself, took the moment to swipe Daryl's bangs off of his clammy forehead.

"Everyone, outside," Mr. Walsh said, authority in his tone. Students trailed out of the room, grabbing their belongings and shooting curious looks at Daryl on their way out.

Mr. Walsh looked over Daryl's body, seemingly searching for any injuries. Satisfied that there weren't any visible ones, he met Rick's gaze over the unconscious boy. "I'm gonna send them all to the library with a note. Wait just a moment, then I'll help you bring him to the nurse."

Rick thought about protesting, saying that he could manage on his own, but he honestly didn't think he could move Daryl on his own without injuring him. He nodded.

Rick kept his eyes on Daryl's face to check for consciousness as Mr. Walsh walked around the room and then out to the hall. He came back in a moment later, and nodded at Rick.

They each grabbed one of Daryl's shoulders, and pulled him to a seated position, then slung his arms around each of their shoulders. They heaved him to his feet, and began carrying him to the office, where the nurse's office was.

As they made their way down the hallway, Mr. Walsh broke the silence. "Listen, Rick. I realize I was out of line the other day, and I wanted to apologize. You're right, I don't have a right to tell you who you should be friends with."

Rick sighed. He didn't want to be talking about something so irrelevant right now. "Honestly, sir, I don't think I'm the one you should be apologizing to," he replied.

Mr. Walsh shot him a confused look, then followed Rick's gaze to the unconscious boy between them. His expression changed to one of comprehension, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right," he said.

They reached the office, and as they entered, the secretary looked up from the computer screen and gasped. "What on earth happened?" she said.

"Think it was a seizure," Mr. Walsh said gruffly. "Is Sophia in?"

She nodded, and led them behind the counter to the nurse's office in the back. As they entered the little room, Rick saw the nurse, a small, thin woman with a kind face and big hazel eyes, stand up from her desk and make her way over to them.

"Please, lay him down here. Gently," she said, indicating the examination bed. Rick and Mr. Walsh maneuvered Daryl onto the bed, and stepped back so the nurse could see him.

"I think it was a seizure, Sophia. A Grand Mal, if I remember my terminology correctly," Mr. Walsh said.

Nurse Sophia nodded and tucked her short blonde hair behind her ear before leaning over Daryl and grasping his wrist to check his pulse.

"How long was it?" she asked.

"About a minute," Rick answered. The nurse lifter her head at the new voice and met Rick's eyes.

"Are you a friend?" she asked, clearly reading the concern on Rick's face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "May I stay?"

"Sure, Rick," Mr. Walsh replied, surprising him.

As Nurse Sophia was finishing her examination, Daryl's eyes fluttered open, and his unfocused gaze swept the room.

"Where'm I?" he asked, his words slurred.

"Mr. Dixon, this is Nurse Peletier. You are in my office. You suffered a seizure, and Mr. Walsh and your friend, Rick, brought you to me. Can you tell me, does anything hurt?"

Daryl shook his head confusedly. "Rick?" he asked groggily. The nurse looked up to Rick, and waved him forward.

In all honesty, he would have gone whether she let him or not.

He stepped closer to Daryl, and, against his better judgment, grasped his hand. To his surprise, Daryl squeezed back, his eyes meeting Rick's.

"Hey, there," Rick said, smiling gently, relief in his voice.

"Hey," Daryl replied. Then his brow furrowed. "She say I had a seizure?"

"Yeah," Rick replied sadly. "Does anywhere hurt?" he asked, figuring that he would find out for Nurse Peletier since Daryl was speaking to him.

Daryl frowned in concentration, slowly testing out different body part, flexing his feet and shifting his arms. He shook his head drowsily. "Nah," he said.

Rick felt relief flood his body. He gave Daryl's hand another squeeze. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Now, Daryl, I need you to rest, okay?" Nurse Peletier said. "Rick here can stay for a while longer, but you need to take it easy."

She stood up and walked over to Mr. Walsh, conversing with him in the corner. Rick could just make out a few words.

She was going to call the hospital for an ambulance.

Shit. Hopefully they wouldn't delve into whether or not Daryl had a prescription for the drugs that were in his system.

Well, he'd just have to go with him to the hospital to help any way he could. Whether the school liked it or not.

Rick waited patiently in the waiting room—okay, maybe a little impatiently—for a nurse, or a doctor, or someone, to come tell him how Daryl was doing. He hadn't seen him since they wheeled him into ICU, about an hour ago.

He didn't know whether something was terribly wrong or if he'd just been forgotten.

He'd never wanted to be forgettable so much in his life as he did right now.

He got up to pace the small room—again—and the friends and family of other patients watched him walk back and forth, like they were at a tennis match. He'd just made his tenth lap when the door opened to reveal a young man, maybe late twenties, wearing the blue scrubs of a nurse and holding a clipboard.

"Mr. Grimes?" he asked, looking up from the clipboard to scan the room. Rick came to a halt, before making a beeline for the man.

"That's me. Is he alright? Can I see him?" he asked in quick succession.

The nurse held up a calming hand. "The doctor will explain in greater detail, but yes he's okay. I'll take you to him. He was asking for you." He led the way out of the room and took a right to walk down the hallway.

Rick felt his ears burn in pleasure, and he looked down quickly to hide his reaction. They reached another area of the hospital, and the man led him down a few more hallways before stopping at a door, room number 402. He gave Rick a cautious look before pushing it open.

Rick stepped in first and stopped when he saw Daryl. He had his eyes closed, and Rick thought it strange that at a time when most people are at peace—when they're asleep—Daryl still seemed to be on his guard. He looked as if he could spring awake at the slightest noise.

Just as this thought entered his mind, Rick accidentally bumped into the food tray next to Daryl's bed, causing the slightest noise as the wheels squeaked on the linoleum. Daryl's eyes opened, and though the blue was a little clouded, no doubt from his drowsiness, he looked alert enough.

"Rick?" he murmured. Rick stepped forward to lean over Daryl, unable to keep himself from crowding the other boy. He was just so worried.

"Yeah, it's me Daryl. How you doin'?" he asked.

Daryl, his eyes fixed on the blanket pulled up to his waist, made a motion as if to shrug, and seemed to brush off the comment, as if it wasn't important how he was. Rick frowned in consternation.

"I was worried," Rick admitted, his voice low. Daryl raised his eyes to meet Rick's at this comment. They were full of confusion.

"Why's that?" he asked. Rick huffed in something that sounded like amusement, but was really just an expression of the pain he felt at Daryl's words. Did he really think he was so irrelevant?

"Because I care what happens to you, Daryl," he replied softly. "You're my friend, whether you wanna be or not."

Rick could've sworn he saw Daryl crack a smile at that before he covered it with a cough and looked away. He cleared his throat to fill the silence of the room.

"So… what happened?" Rick asked cautiously. He shifted on his feet, unsure about whether he should be asking about this or not.

Daryl was silent for a long moment before he sighed. He sounded very weary. "Stopped takin' my pills. Side effect."

"The seizure was a side effect?" Rick clarified. Daryl nodded impatiently. "Why'd you stop takin' them?"

Daryl shrugged again, an almost angry expression on his face. "Why you think, Rick? For kicks? I ran out. Supplier and I had a fallin' out, and I couldn't find no one else in time."

Rick was silent, thinking through the situation. He began speaking hesitantly. "You know, if you needed me to, maybe I could…"

Before he could get any further, Daryl cut him off with a sharp glare. "No, Rick. What Merle did…. it was stupid, and if he'd been caught, coulda added more to his time. Insurance fraud is some serious shit. I'm not lettin' you do it, so don't ask."

Rick huffed out a breath, frustrated. "All right, then. What else can I do, then? You need those pills. How're you gonna get 'em? If you could afford them from a dealer, surely you can afford a doctor's visit, one of those free clinics, right? Couldn't he write you a prescription? How much are the pills?"

"Look, it's not that simple. I got prescribed that shit under Merle's name. You gotta have a few appointments before they give you the serious stuff. And I have it in my system. If they take a blood sample and see I have it, then… they'll probably think I'm a junkie or somethin'. Just leave it be, Rick. It's my problem."

Rick frowned at that, sure that if he just had a little longer to think… Or someone to bounce ideas off of…

"Get outta here, Grimes. Doc said I gotta rest, or he won't lemme go home today," Daryl said gruffly.

Rick made a mental note that Daryl used his last name, rather than his first, whenever he was trying to distance himself. He took it as his cue to leave, more so than Daryl's words.

"You got a ride when you do get out? Most places won't let you go without one," Rick said.

Daryl frowned, and shrugged. "I'll figure it out. See you tomorrow, Grimes. If they lemme outta here, anyway."

"Yeah, see you," Rick replied. He offered Daryl a quick smile, then turned to leave the room. He stopped when he remembered something. "Hey, Daryl?"

Daryl looked back up, his expression frustrated. "Yeah?"

"The nurse said you asked for me. What'd you want?"

Daryl looked down quickly and his thumb came up to his mouth—a nervous habit, Rick thought—and he chewed on his finger as his eyes seemed to study the blanket. "Dunno. He just said you came in with the ambulance, so I asked him to find out if you was still here… guess he just brought you to me when he saw you were."

Rick smiled softly, and waited for Daryl to shoot a glance at him before nodding in understanding. "Mr. Walsh is actually the one who convinced them to let me go with you."

Daryl's brow furrowed. "Walsh?" he asked incredulously.

"I know, right? Who 'da thought?" Rick shook his head. "He was actually pretty worried. He said he knew you wouldn't want his face to be the one you saw when you came to, so I should go instead."

Daryl grunted, his face still a mask of bewilderment. Rick found it incredibly sad that a simple kind gesture could be so baffling to him. Though, understandably, this wasn't just a teacher: it was Walsh.

"All right, well… I'll let you get some rest. Get well, Daryl." Rick said. Daryl nodded to him, and Rick left the room to call his parents for a ride home.

He had something to talk to them about tonight.

"So, what is it that you want me to do, Rick? I don't expect that he would take money from us, based on what you've said about him," Rick's father asked an hour later.

From the moment he and his parents walked in the door of their home, Rick had asked his parents to sit down so he could ask them a favor. He'd just finished explaining the dilemma that Daryl was in, and, trusting that his parents wouldn't judge Daryl too harshly, was getting ready to tell them what he needed.

Rick knew that most people wouldn't have the trust in their parents that he had in his. To tell the truth, his dad had grown up in a pretty rough situation himself: he had two deadbeat, druggie parents, and he raised his two younger brothers practically by himself. He put himself through law school, and ran his own non-profit now.

He was an inspiration to Rick, and he always made sure that he and Carl were aware that things were not just given to you in life. You had to earn them.

"Well, dad, mom… I was hoping you could hire him," Rick said expectantly, ready for the disbelief and arguments to ensue.

To his surprise, a thoughtful expression stole over his father's face, and his mom simply said, "To do what?"

"You know your old bike, dad? Well, Daryl fixes them down at the garage on Fifth. He works there. I thought you could hire him to fix it up, get it runnin' again," Rick explained.

His dad seemed to process this. "Well, if we did this, we'd pay him, of course. But, his problems would still be the same, Rick. He committed insurance fraud, and he'd have to be re-diagnosed. Not to mention the drugs that are in his system…" He sighed. "He's right, it seems to be a rather impossible situation. What do you expect my hiring him will do for him?"

Rick took in a deep breath and held it. He let it out slowly. Here it came. "I thought you could use your connections, both of you, to maybe… find him a doctor who understands his… situation."

Both of his parents raised their eyebrows at that. His mom met his father's eyes, and they seemed to communicate to each other without speaking. Rick's gaze darted from one to the other nervously.

"We'll have to talk about this tonight, Rick. We'll let you know what we decide," his dad said. Rick nodded, and blew out a breath in relief. He was just happy that there wasn't any yelling involved. Asking his parents to involve themselves in breaking the law was a pretty big deal, after all.

"Go on up to bed, sweetheart," his mom said kindly. She had a look of such understanding on her face, like she truly knew what it meant for him to come to them with this, that Rick felt tears well up in his eyes. He nodded, gave both of his parents quick hugs, and went up to his room to collect his thoughts.

The following morning, his parents came down to the kitchen to find Rick already at the breakfast table, staring at his hands, leg bouncing nervously. He had already been up for a half hour, simply waiting to hear what his mom and dad had decided.

He couldn't sleep for fear of not being able to help Daryl after all.

His mom, compassion written all over her face, came over and ran her hand through Rick's hair and rubbed his scalp lightly. He felt himself relax slightly, despite his nerves. She moved to the stove to start breakfast, and his dad took the seat next to him.

Rick met his dad's eyes, and raised his eyebrows in question.

His dad sighed. His face was cautious, but, Rick could tell, not completely full of bad news. He felt some of the hope he hadn't let himself feel bubble up inside of him.

"All right, Rick. We'll do what we can to help," he held up a cautionary hand when Rick's face lit up. "Now, I don't want you to get your hopes up just yet, son. We're not sure that we can find a doctor that'll be willing to help. But… your mom is gonna ask a couple of people she trusts at the hospital, and I'm gonna use my… lawyering skills to… maybe trade favors, as it were." He gave Rick a small smile, seeing that his son could barely contain his excitement, before becoming stern again.

"If I were you, I wouldn't say anything to Daryl, yet, in case it doesn't work out. I'm also gonna look into what kinds of insurance he can get, and afford, so he can see a doctor regularly once he's got everything squared away."

At this, Rick stood up from his seat, and wrapped his arms around his dad in gratitude. He couldn't help it. His dad was the best man that he knew. He knew that not everyone was blessed the way he was—Daryl for one—and he promised himself that he wouldn't ever take his parents for granted.

After giving his dad's neck one last squeeze, and feeling his dad pat his back in reciprocation, he stood to hug his mom. It still felt weird that he was so much taller than she was. It was just a year or so ago that he had his growth spurt, and she felt so small in his arms now.

But he had never known anyone stronger.

Just as he let his mom go, he heard Carl bounding down the stairs. They all turned to look at the entranceway, so Carl came into the kitchen to see three quietly somber people staring at him.

He stopped in his tracks.

"Uh… do I have something on my face?" he asked innocently. He started rubbing his face vigorously.

At that, the tension broke, and Rick and his parents laughed. Carl looked baffled, but shrugged it off and moved to sit down at the table. Rick sat across from him to eat, and he let himself focus on his family, for what felt like the first time since he met Daryl, because he finally felt that things just might work out.

I apologize if anything seems too far-fetched.

I love reviews and to hear what y'all think!

Thanks for reading :)


	7. A pair of dull scissors

**So, I know nothing about motorcycles. Which ones are good, what 850cc means, or how to fix them. I'm just researching and trying my best to make stuff up. Thanks for understanding :)** **This chapter has a few instances of abuse, so be warned. Nothing too graphic.** **Thanks for reading, and I love to hear what you think!**

Chapter Seven—A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light

Daryl walked into school on Wednesday holding his right arm at an awkward angle. He tried his best to hide it, but seeing as he was right-handed, this proved to be rather difficult.

His arm had been injured the previous day by his father. When the hospital had released him Monday night, Daryl had called Martinez to pick him up.

The man had shown up on his bike, so, despite still feeling rather weak, Daryl had climbed onto the back for the ride home. He'd honestly thought, before he walked in the door, that the worst of the day was over.

But then he'd gone inside.

His father had been drunk, and high, and who knew what other shit he had in his system. All Daryl knew, from years of experience, was that his father was a violent man by nature.

And drugs only made him worse.

Monday night was the worst he'd seen him since before Merle was locked up. And Daryl fully understood, for the first time, just how much his big brother had protected him from the old man when he got like this.

Not that Daryl hadn't received his fair share of beatings through the years. But it seemed that Merle had taken the brunt of his worst days.

And now Daryl was alone.

The night had ended with his father attempting to swipe a broken beer bottle at Daryl's head, and instead gashing his arm.

The blood seemed to calm the old bastard, as if he considered Daryl's punishment—for what, he didn't know—to be over.

Daryl walked to the bathroom, took out his own version of first aid supplies—Percocet, a lighter, needles, and thread- and patched himself up.

He spent Tuesday at the park, figuring that going in the day after collapsing in front of the whole fucking class was just asking for the mindless idiots to gawk at him.

No, thank you.

So, he sat on a bench in the park on the wrong side of town, smoking cigarettes, and thinking about what the fuck he was doing with Rick Grimes.

He didn't remember much about what happened in Biology, but he did remember coming to in the nurse's office, and Rick holding his hand.

Holding his fucking hand. And Daryl had let him.

No, he hadn't just let him. He'd enjoyed it. Like a damn girl.

Daryl shook his head in consternation, blowing out smoke from the corner of his mouth. He didn't know what was going on with Rick, but he knew that he owed him. For helping after the seizure.

For sticking around.

Come Wednesday, Daryl had decided to let Rick know that he was wiling to try this- friend thing. Rick had seen some of the more fucked up things about Daryl, and he hadn't judged.

And he got the feeling that there was more to Rick than met the eye.

He gathered his books from his locker, stuck them in his bag, and made his way to English. Taking his usual seat, he looked over to Rick, who was gazing at him concernedly, and gave him a smirk. He watched as Rick's eyes moved over Daryl's arm, obviously searching for an injury.

Daryl shifted in his seat so that his arm was out of Rick's line of sight, and tugged his sleeve down to cover any gauze that might be showing.

Just because he was willing to try being friends didn't mean Rick had the right know every little fucking thing about him.

Rick had passed him a note during English—'Come outside with me for lunch. Please.'-and Daryl was confused as to why Rick didn't just ask him verbally. After all, they had the next class together, too. It's not like he didn't have the opportunity.

He shrugged it off, though. Everyone had their quirks.

Rick was silent during Bio. He did keep sending Daryl furtive looks under his lashes, though.

Daryl pretended not to notice.

As soon as the bell rang, the boys exited the room together, and when Rick met his gaze, Daryl nodded to let him know that he would follow. When they stepped outside, Daryl lit a cigarette, and took his first puff as Rick led them to the picnic tables that were set up near the parking lot.

Rick took a seat, and waved his hand at the other side of the table, which let Daryl know that the boy intended for this to be a long conversation.

Great.

Instead of sitting, Daryl decided to lean against to table, his left side facing Rick, so that he could see him when he turned his head, but not blow smoke directly into his face. He kept his injured right arm still by his side.

Rick cleared his throat awkwardly a few times. Daryl could feel the silence becoming uncomfortable, but decided not to break it.

Rick asked him out here, he'd be the one to talk.

After fidgeting on his seat once, twice, Rick finally opened his mouth to speak. "S-so I have something to talk to you about."

Daryl considered this a redundant statement—seeing as the boy had drug him all the way out here—so he remained silent.

"I've been thinking about your… situation, and I think I can help."

Daryl raised his eyebrows inquisitively, his eyes focused on Rick.

"N-now, please don't be mad, but I… I kinda told my parents about what's goin' on—" Rick wasn't able to finish his sentence, because Daryl had finally broken his silence.

"You what?" he asked, voice dangerously low. He could see Rick gulp nervously, but to his surprise, the boy didn't back down. He didn't know whether to be more irate, or slightly impressed.

Rick raised his chin slightly. "I told my parents. My dad, he… went through a lot of stuff growin' up, and he understands what it's like, havin' to make due. He doesn't judge. And my mom, well… she just has a kind heart, she's always tryin' to help people. I know this probably doesn't mean anything right now, but you can trust them," Rick said earnestly.

Daryl snorted derisively. "I don't even trust you, Grimes. Obviously, I never should told you nothin' about me to begin with. Can't keep a secret to save your damn life."

"I can keep a secret!" Rick said indignantly. "But this one was hurting you! I'd just left you at the hospital when I talked to them, for God's sake!" Daryl could see Rick's face becoming redder by the second, and for some unfathomable reason, he felt some of his anger fade.

Maybe it was the fact that Rick had only broken his trust because he was worried about him. Or maybe it was just impossible to stay mad at friends.

Daryl wouldn't have known before, because he'd never had one. But perhaps friends did what was good for you, whether you wanted them to or not.

He held his palms out to Rick, to get him to calm down and to let him know that he was willing to listen. "So, what'd they say?"

Rick exhaled harshly, the red diminishing a bit in his cheeks. "My dad's a lawyer, and my mom's a nurse. They used their… skills to find a doctor who knows what's goin' on and keep it a secret for long enough for you to get back on your meds. And for you to be diagnosed in your own name."

"So, let me get this straight. You told your parents, who then told someone else, that me and my brother broke the law?" His breathing became labored. He felt a little sick. "Are you fuckin' crazy?"

"No!" Rick said, standing up from the table and getting in front of Daryl, but thankfully not touching him. "They know who to trust. His name is Dr. Kirkman, he's an old friend, and he owes my dad a favor. Please, Daryl. Please trust me," Rick pleaded, his eyes wide.

Daryl kept his gaze focused squarely on his feet. He was trying his damndest not to punch Rick right in the face, because he knew the boy meant well.

But, fuck, he might have just royally screwed up his life.

He slowly got his breathing under control, and met Rick's eyes again. Fuck it, the damage was done. Though, he didn't know how he was gonna afford to see a doc, seein' as how he didn't have insurance. The garage didn't pay that much.

Before he could contemplate that any further, Rick broke the silence.

"Oh, and one more thing. My dad is willing to get Dr. Kirkman to waive his patient fees if you can do something for him," Rick said, a small smirk on his face.

Daryl could feel apprehension creep through his body at this statement. What did the man want, regular drug tests? Better grades in school, for fuck's sake?

"He has an old bike, a classic, I don't remember what it's called, but… it hasn't run since before I was born. And he wants you to fix her up," Rick let loose a genuine smile at that.

Daryl's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That's it?"

Rick nodded, smile still plastered on his face. "So, what d'you say, Daryl? Do we have a deal?"

His natural instinct, as always, was to blow off help, and take care of it himself. But Rick, his friend, hadn't just offered to help: he'd offered a real solution. And it wasn't going to just be handed to him.

He was going to earn it.

Mr. Grimes was gonna have the best fucking bike in town by the time Daryl was through with it.

Daryl let a real smile slip through, just for Rick, and nodded. "Yeah. Why the hell not?"

If it was possible, Rick's smile got even wider.

Rick asked him whether he'd mind meeting his parents. Daryl wasn't all too fond of parents, to be honest. He'd never met any who were worth a damn.

Judging by how Rick talked about his, though, he suspected he was about to.

Apparently, Rick decided that somewhere neutral was best, seein' as how Daryl was still a little uncomfortable. He couldn't really argue with that.

They met at Morgan's Rib Shack, to grab some dinner and talk about the arrangement. It was about five o'clock, and the two boys had spent the last couple of hours together, just killing time. Daryl had also stopped into the garage to let Dale know that he couldn't come in after work, because the doctor told him to take it easy, but that he'd be back for his shift Saturday.

Dale was surprisingly understanding. Apparently, he'd already known that Daryl was in the hospital—small town, and all that—and he hadn't expected to see him 'til next week.

Daryl was pretty baffled by the fact that someone didn't yell at him when he disappointed them. Though, according to Dale, he wasn't a disappointment.

Huh.

So, Daryl and Rick walked into the restaurant together, and Rick spotted his parents immediately, sitting in the back, on the same side of a booth, so as to let the two boys sit together.

Daryl was a little grateful for that. He didn't wanna sit next to a stranger.

They took their seats, Daryl taking the aisle one, so he could keep his injured arm out of sight of Rick's curious gaze.

"Hey Mom, Dad. This is Daryl Dixon," Rick said, gesturing towards Daryl, as if he could be anyone else. "Daryl, these are my parents."

The woman smiled, her bright blonde hair shining in the dim lighting of the restaurant. "Hello, Mr. Dixon. Do you mind if I call you Daryl?" she asked.

Daryl had jumped at the name 'Mr. Dixon,' because that was his father's name. No fucking way did he want to be called that. "Daryl's fine," he said roughly.

"Well, Daryl, it's nice to meet you. You can call me Mrs. Grimes, or Beth. I prefer Beth, though, it makes me feel younger," she offered with a wink. Daryl was shocked at her nonchalant attitude. He'd never had a grown-up treat him like a person.

Well, maybe Mr. Greene, a bit. But he treated him like a damaged person, not a normal one.

He'd never admit it, but he liked Mrs. Grimes—Beth—already. He offered her a small smile, and a nod.

At that moment, a waiter came up to the table, sporting a large smile. "Hello!" he said. "My name is Greg, and I'll be your server this evening. Does everyone know what they want to drink?"

After taking their drink orders, he left to give them a moment to look at the menu before ordering their food. Daryl hadn't even picked up a menu yet.

They all spent a few minutes deciding what they wanted, and ordered when Greg came back with their drinks. Daryl put a straw in his water and swirled it around in the glass distractedly. The waiter left to give their order to the kitchen.

Mr. Grimes cleared his throat to speak. "And I'm Jimmy. I don't care what you call me, as long as it's not 'that asshole.'" He laughed at Daryl's shocked expression. "I'm just teasing, Daryl. It's nice to meet you. Did Rick tell you about our ideas?"

Daryl nodded, and looked to Rick to speak. Rick smiled at him, and looked to his parents. He explained everything they'd gone over, leaving out Daryl's angry outbursts.

When he was done, Mr. Grimes was nodding thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, I think that's everything. So, Daryl, do you agree to the terms? Will you fix my bike in exchange for appointments with Dr. Kirkman?"

Daryl looked down at the table for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He didn't want to disappoint these people, but he also wanted to complete his side of the deal. He met Mr. Grimes's eyes. "Yes, sir, I do. And I'm gonna try my hardest to fix up your bike. But what if I can't? What if it can't be fixed?"

Mr. Grimes nodded solemnly. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I believe she can be fixed. I'll show her to you tomorrow, if you'll come over to the house after school?" he asked.

Daryl nodded. "Sure thing. I got work Saturday, and every Wednesday thru Saturday after that. But I got every Sunday thru Tuesday to work on 'er," he said sheepishly.

"That's fine, Daryl," Mr. Grimes said. "I understand that you have your own responsibilities, and we're happy to work around them."

Daryl nodded, relieved. At that moment, Greg came back with their food, and Daryl dug into his burger with enthusiasm.

For the remainder of dinner, conversation was lighthearted among the family. They all tried to include Daryl without putting any pressure on him.

After they asked for the check, Rick's parents began gathering their coats to leave. "We left Carl at a friend's house, so we need to go get him. I'm sure he's having too much fun, anyway. Have to put a stop to that," Beth said with a smile.

"Are you comin' with us, Rick? Or you wanna stick around awhile?" Mr. Grimes asked.

"I'm gonna stay with Daryl for a bit, but I'll be home by eight," Rick said. He stood up to hug his parents goodbye, then sat down next to Daryl.

Their eyes met, and Daryl couldn't help but give Rick a small smile. He wasn't sure that this would all work out, and he didn't know if he could repay Rick and his parents for their help. And he would try his best to figure out what a good friend was, and be that for Rick.

From the looks of Rick's answering grin, he was off to an okay start.

Rick dropped Daryl off a couple blocks from his home—no way was Daryl letting him know exactly where he lived; what if he came by one day and his father answered the door?- and let Daryl know that he'd be driving him to his own house to start working on the motorcycle after school the next day.

Despite himself, Daryl was actually looking forward to it.

Early the next morning, Daryl was woken up by a punch to the face. It wasn't the most pleasant way to be roused.

He darted off of his bed as the pain radiated down his right cheekbone, and held his arms up defensively so his father couldn't get another shot to his head. This, of course, caused him to raise his right arm too quickly, pulling his homemade stitches.

Hope I didn't pull any, he thought, as he held in a grimace.

"Lazy piece o' shit," his father slurred, weaving slightly on his feet as he advanced on Daryl, who used his smaller size and sobriety to slip past the man and out into the hallway.

"Come back 'ere!" his dad shouted, attempting to chase after him, but losing his balance and crashing into the wall.

Daryl took the opportunity to grab his boots from beside the front door and shove them on his feet without tying them. He grabbed his bookbag from the living room floor and left the house at a jog.

Fucker was crazy.

He felt lucky that he'd slept with a shirt on the night before, as well as some rather nondescript gray sweatpants. He didn't think he'd stick out too much.

He pulled his hoodie out of his backpack, put it on, and zipped it all the way up.

He grabbed a cigarette from the pack in his bag, and lit it to keep him company on his walk to school. It felt strange to smoke with his left hand, seeing as how he was a righty, but it was still painful to raise his dominant arm.

He was really getting tired of this shit. He always knew his dad was no peach, hell he'd done worse before this, but it's be nice to be able to wake up in the mornings without getting beat on.

He didn't even want to think how bad the scars on his back would be if Merle hadn't taken the brunt of it for so many years.

He felt both grateful and pissed at his brother. Grateful, of course, because Merle always tried to protect his brother, just like Daryl tried to protect him when he could.

Pissed, because, if it was always this fucking bad, why the hell would he stay? Why not leave? It couldn't be just for Daryl, because he could've taken him with if he wanted to.

Daryl shook his head, debating whether to ask Merle this later or not, and decided now wasn't the time. Cornering Merle to ask his accusatory questions when he was already locked up was not a good idea.

Daryl stubbed out cigarette before he walked into the school, head down. He stopped off at his locker, and headed to class.

He tried to get his head off of his family, and found the perfect solution as he walked into English: Rick.

At least he'd have those lips—and eyes, fucking gorgeous eyes—to distract himself with.

Daryl settled into the passenger seat of Rick's jeep, and bucked his seatbelt at the other boy's insistence.

Fucking wannabe cop, he thought with a smirk.

The drive lasted about ten minutes, and during the drive, Daryl thought that Rick was trying to make conversation, but he couldn't get out of his head long enough to answer any of his questions. He couldn't believe it, but he was nervous.

Him. Nervous.

Dixon's don't get nervous, you pansy, he heard Merle's voice say in his head.

Fuck you, he thought back.

Rick pulled into the driveway of a nice, two-story home; it was painted a light yellow, and had a large white porch and a red door.

Daryl could never feel at home in a place like this.

Rick smiled over a Daryl as he turned his car off. "You ready?" he asked.

Daryl nodded tersely and pushed his door open. He stood awkwardly by the car while he waited for Rick to round the front of it.

"Hey, aren't we just goin' back to work on the bike?" he asked, hoping to not have to go inside.

Rick turned back to him and took in the tense set of his shoulders, and the frown on his face. "Well… I mean, we can, I was just gonna let my parents know we're here and say hi to my brother."

Daryl blinked. "You got a brother?"

Rick's brows furrowed. "Yeah, I thought I mentioned… my mom said last night that she left Carl with a friend, I just thought you would've known. But you're right, I didn't tell you before." He shook his head, the smile coming back to his face.

"Older or younger?" Daryl asked. He assumed that Carl was younger, since his mom had to go pick him up last night. And also, the look that Rick got on his face when he talked about him. That was the look of an older brother thinking about his pain-in-the-ass little brother; the brother that he would love to beat on, but who he would die for in a heartbeat.

It's the look Merle got, when he told Daryl to leave the room when their dad got real bad.

"Younger," Rick answered. "He's twelve. A real brat, but what can you do? I'm stuck with him," he continued fondly. "If you want, you can go ahead around back, and I'll meet you out there in a minute?" he offered.

"Sure," Daryl said, his voice laced with relief. Rick graced him with one last smile before pointing out the latch to open the fence to the backyard and heading into the house.

Daryl opened the gate and stepped into the Grimes' grass-covered back lawn. There was an enclosed patio, and a grill, and even a fire-pit. Towards the back of the yard was a large wooden shed, which was padlocked. Daryl guessed that was where he would be working.

In between the patio and the shed was a very large, kidney-shaped pool. It was covered now, as it was pretty late in the season to go swimming.

He jumped as he heard Rick's voice behind him. "Told you it wouldn't take long," he said. Daryl turned to face him, and pointed towards the shed.

"That where I'll be workin'?" he asked.

Rick nodded. "Yep." He smiled as he took a sweeping glance around the yard, his gaze fixing on the pool. "You know, sometime we could go swimmin' after you get done for the day," he said, a sly smile spreading on his face.

Daryl smirked. Was Rick flirting with him? He wasn't sure whether Rick liked guys at all, so he needed to be cautious. "Ain't it a bit cold to swim, chief?" he asked.

Rick's smile spread into a grin. "Nah, it's heated."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at that. He wondered what it would be like to grow up with money like Rick did.

Though, despite all of his material wealth, he'd never seen Rick flaunt it. He wasn't arrogant or obnoxious.

And he was definitely a better person than Daryl, who grew up with nothing.

He figured, in the end, the amount of money one had couldn't be used as a measure of one's worth.

Daryl cleared his throat. "Well, then. Maybe one day," he said, his voice rough.

Rick nodded, appeased, and started to make his way to the shed, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. He unlatched the padlock and opened the large wooden door, then stepped back to make room for Daryl to enter first.

"Whoa," Daryl said in awe. He couldn't help it, honestly. "Your dad has a '73 Norton Commando? What is it, an 850?"

Rick shrugged sheepishly. "Sure." Daryl shot him a disappointed look, and Rick held up his hands helplessly. "I'm sorry, I just don't know much about bikes. I told you before."

Daryl shook his head and tsked mockingly. "Don't even know a classic bike when it's in his own backyard…" he muttered teasingly.

Rick grinned, and followed Daryl over to the bike. Daryl squatted down in front of it to inspect the exterior. "The frame is still in good shape, considering. I'll need to do some diagnostics, see what's workin' and what's not."

Rick nodded. "Sure. Whatever you need."

Daryl grinned at him. That sounded good to him.

The next week found Daryl either at school, Dale's, or Rick's house. He only went home to sleep, and he often climbed in and out of the window to get to his room.

If he had a car, he figured he would've slept in it.

His arm had healed enough that it didn't hurt to work on the bike anymore, and he could lift things without pulling any stitches.

On Friday, before he walked home from work, he asked Dale if he could cut his shift on Saturday for a couple of months, so he could have more time to work on Mr. Grime's bike.

He had expected disappointment, or a lecture about responsibility, or some other form of adult superiority.

What he got instead was a clap on the shoulder, and a reassurance that when he was ready to take the shift on again, it was his.

Daryl appreciated that more than he could say. He thought that Dale understood anyway.

Almost a week after he started on the bike, on a Tuesday, Rick came strutting into the backyard carrying a couple of towels and a pair of swim trunks. He already had another pair on himself.

And, as Daryl couldn't help but notice and admire, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Daryl's eyes swept over the newly exposed skin, taking in the golden brown chest, and the light dusting of brown hair on his chest and under his belly button.

Daryl gulped.

It was the heat, he told himself.

Rick had helped Daryl move the bike and tools out into the yard, as the shed wasn't air conditioned, and it was too warm on this particularly day—freaking Georgia, and the freaking hot weather in fall—for him to work in it. So Daryl was in a prime position to watch Rick make his way around the pool and towards Daryl, whose suspicions were rising.

"Hey, Daryl, I got somethin' for ya," Rick said. Daryl's mind immediately went to the gutter, and he wrenched himself back out forcibly.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, smirking. "And what's that?"

As Daryl expected, Rick held up the other pair of swim trunks and held them out to him.

Daryl crossed his arms, and tilted his head, as if considering the offer. Then he snatched them from the other boy's hand, causing Rick to laugh in shock, and turned to go into the shed.

"Where're you goin'? Rick shouted after him.

"I'm not changin' in the yard, Grimes. I don' care how much you wanna see my lily white ass!"

Rick giggled, and Daryl hurriedly pulled off his clothes, leaving them in a pile by the door, and pulled on the trunks.

He hesitated for a moment before walking back out to the yard. He knew he had scars, and they were ugly, and disfiguring. At least the fresher one on his arm wasn't as noticeable as it was a week ago.

He'd had enough people offer sympathy and empty words. He'd had even more express disgust. He didn't want any of those things from Rick. But he wouldn't hide them, either. If they were friends, he would see them sooner or later.

But how would he react?

Taking a fortifying breath, Daryl walked out onto the grass and tossed a quick, "Too slow, Grimes!" behind him before cannonballing into the pool.

He heard Rick laugh before his head was submerged in the clear, warm water. He swam back up, and just as his head broke the surface, he saw Rick jump in right beside him.

He spent the next two hours having more fun than he could ever remember having. Even with Merle when he was sober.

Daryl and Rick lay side by side on the grass, still drenched from their swim, and breathing hard from the exertion of their last round of noodle jousting.

"I still say I would've won if you hadn't cheated," Rick said, a pout on his lips.

Daryl laughed. "Just 'cause I'm better don't mean I cheated!" At that, Rick leaned over and punched his arm. "Oi!" Daryl shouted in indignation.

And then he pounced. He jumped on Rick, and straddled him. He didn't want to hurt him, though, so he did the next best thing.

He tickled him.

"No!" Rick squealed—squealed, like a pig—twisting and trying to buck Daryl off. Daryl couldn't help but laugh at the way Rick's face was turning bright red, and his voice was all squeaky.

He dug his fingers into the smooth skin at Rick's ribs, and tickled as hard as he could.

"Daryl! Stop, please!" Rick wheezed between his laughter. Daryl took pity on him, seeing as how he couldn't even breathe well enough to speak coherently.

He rolled off of Rick, keeping space between them so he would be ready if Rick wanted to launch a retaliatory attack.

"I'll ge- get you for that… Dixon," Rick said, still trying to catch his breath. Daryl breathed out a laugh. "Y-you just… wait. I'll get you… when you're not… expecting it…even if it's ten years from now!" he continued vehemently.

Daryl couldn't help his small intake of breath. He was surprised, because he'd never seen this friendship as a long-term thing. Sure, he liked Rick—a lot. Hell, probably more than he should—but he didn't think Rick would wanna stick around that long.

After school, Rick would probably go to college, get married, have kids. Move away. And Daryl would still be here. Working, fucking around. Doing not much of anything. Probably trying not to get arrested, like Merle did.

The joviality from a moment ago lost, Daryl sat up, and grabbed the towel a few feet away to start drying off. He felt Rick sit up next to him.

"Hey," Rick said hesitantly. He craned his neck, trying to see Daryl's face, but he kept it turned away. "Daryl… did I say somethin' wrong?"

Daryl shook his head, and stood up abruptly. He walked into the shed, where he began to gather his clothes. He heard soft footsteps behind him, so he closed the shed for some privacy while he got dressed.

As he pulled on his shirt—and he could hear Rick breathing right outside the door, waiting patiently or him to come out—he thought about his scars again for the first time since he left the barn.

Somehow, the whole time he was out there with Rick, he'd never caught him staring, or diverting his eyes, or giving him looks of sympathy.

He just treated him like he always had. Like a friend.

He wasn't sure how he'd gone hours without feeling conscious of his disfigurements. It'd never happened before.

Despite the fact that Rick was naïve in thinking they'd be friends for the next ten years, and that he knew it would have to end, Daryl decided something in that moment. He decided that even if Rick moved away, even if he got tired of Daryl, or if he wanted better friends… Daryl would stick with this.

He wouldn't try to keep Rick to himself, or convince him to stay when he was ready to leave. But he wouldn't be the one to walk away.

Rick deserved better than that.

After he finished dressing, he opened the door to the shed and came face to face with Rick, who was shifting nervously on his feet.

Daryl offered him a strained smile, which was probably more of a grimace, and held out the swim trunks he had borrowed. "Thanks for the loan. I'm gonna finish up here and head home," he said quietly.

Rick nodded, taking the trunks. "Alright," he said, eyes on the ground. "Well, I'll go change and then I'll take you home when you're ready."

Daryl grunted an affirmative, and moved to the bike. He heard Rick make his way inside, and as soon as the boy closed the door behind him, he took a deep breath.

This friendship thing was more work than he'd thought it'd be.

Five minutes passed before he heard the door open again, and Rick came up to stand beside him. Daryl was still kneeling in the grass before the bike, but he was just finishing up.

"Listen, Rick. 'M sorry for that, earlier, I just…. I've never really had," he hesitated. "A friend, before," he finished quietly.

Rick was quiet for a moment, then kneeled down so he was on an even level with Daryl. "I haven't really, either. Not for a long time, anyway."

Daryl's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and Rick chuckled lightly at his expression. "Why d'you look so surprised?" he asked.

"'Cause you're… you," Daryl answered lamely.

Rick smiled sadly, and shook his head. "Nah, I was, well. When I was younger, I was, you know… bullied, a lot." Daryl's hands clenched into fists. "And when I got to middle school, things just got worse. I was always small, I just started growin' in the last year or so. And this last year at school… well, somethin' came out about me, and people were just… cruel, when they found out."

Daryl's hands were clenched so tightly that it was painful. He consciously loosened them, and tried to calm himself down. "What was it?" he bit out. He didn't mean it to come out so harshly, but he was pissed.

Rick didn't seem to notice his tone, he just kept that same, sad expression fixed on the ground in front of him. "I don't wanna talk about it right now, Daryl. Maybe someday, but not now." He met Daryl's eyes pleadingly. "Don't take it personal. When I'm ready to talk about, it's gonna be you I wanna talk with. I promise."

This was more than Daryl expected, and he felt a sense of pride that Rick would want to confide in him. "I ain't mad at ya, Rick. I'm pissed at the fuckers who was mean to you. And you don't gotta tell me nothin' you don't want to," he finished firmly.

Before he knew what was happening, he had an armful of Rick plastered to his front. He stiffened on reflex, but kept himself from pushing the other boy away. Rick pulled back, his face a mask of horror. "God, I'm sorry!" he said in anguish. "I wasn't thinkin'!"

"Shh," Daryl said. "Don't worry 'bout it." He hesitated a moment. "C'mere," he said, his arms held out. He could tell that this is what Rick needed, with his red-rimmed eyes and his crestfallen expression.

He had the feeling Rick had needed this for a while now.

"Really?" Rick said, so quietly that Daryl had to strain to hear him. Daryl nodded, and Rick move slowly back into his embrace, both of them still kneeling on the ground.

Rick's arms closed around Daryl's back, and his head rested on Daryl's shoulder.

With his right hand on Rick's shoulder blades, Daryl put his left on Rick's head and began threading his fingers through his hair soothingly. He felt a small, hitched sob come from the boy, and he hugged him a bit tighter.

He had to admit, despite his aversion to touch: this was pretty nice.

On the drive to his house, Rick was silent. Daryl wasn't sure whether it was a comfortable silence or not, so he didn't want to break it.

But he decided to offer something, to let Rick know that he would open up a little in return for Rick's trust.

"Turn right up here," he said, as Rick came up to the corner where he always dropped Daryl off. Rick looked to him in surprise, but didn't say anything.

Daryl directed him the rest of the way to his home, and had him stop the car two houses over so his father couldn't see him out the window. He pointed out which was his.

"There it is, chez Dixon," he said mockingly. Rick smiled at him, a bit melancholy.

"Hey, look, Daryl," he started. "I'm sorry about, you know, earlier—"

"Don't, Rick," Daryl cut him off gruffly. "Don't be sorry. I'm… glad you can trust me. Really. I know I'm a bit uncomfortable with touchin', and I prob'ly always will be, but I kinda liked bein' the one you opened up to. You might have somethin' here with this whole 'friend' thing," he said with a teasing smile.

Rick's smile became a bit less melancholy. Daryl couldn't help but notice just how blue his eyes were, even in the shadow of night.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Rick said a bit sheepishly. Daryl shrugged. He could ask, didn't mean Daryl'd answer.

"How do you… you know? If you don't like touch?" Rick's eyes were wide and curious, and Daryl couldn't be defensive with him for asking a personal question—though he really wanted to be.

He sighed. "How'd I what?" he asked.

To be honest, he knew what Rick was asking, he just wanted to have a bit of fun.

Rick blushed bright red, and Daryl's amusement was uncontainable. He laughed out loud. Rick glanced up at him, and his face went from confused, to embarrassed, to unwillingly amused in a few seconds.

"That wasn't funny!" he said indignantly, though he couldn't keep the smile from his lips.

Daryl chuckled, and slapped Rick on the shoulder. "Just fuckin' with you, Rick. Honestly, I don't mind touchin' much, as long as I'm the one that starts it, you know?"

Rick nodded, understanding on his face. "It's a control thing, right?" he asked, no judgment on his face.

Daryl nodded.

"So… that girl. The one I saw you with. She just doesn't mind? Just… goes with it?" he asked, his voice so hesitant and unsure that Daryl took pity on him and answered.

"You mean Amy?" he asked. She was the only girl he'd been with since Rick had moved to town. Rick shrugged. "She blonde?"

"Yeah," Rick answered, "she was sitting with you at lunch a few weeks ago."

"She ain't my girlfriend or nothin', it that's what you're wonderin'," he answered. Rick shrugged again, his gaze dropping to his hands, and red rising in his face again.

"I wasn't askin'," Rick said. "But since we're on the subject… do you have a girlfriend or… somethin'?"

"Nah," Daryl answered. "Just. You know. Screw around sometimes. I never been with someone for real, you know. Like a relationship," he finished awkwardly. He felt like such a dumbass.

"Me neither," Rick mumbled. Daryl looked up at him in surprise. Rick shrugged, his ears still red, and smiled sheepishly. "And I've never done… you know. What you have."

Daryl's eyes got wide. "Really? Never?"

Rick shook his head, embarrassed.

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly. "Oh." He had no idea what to say. Should he offer to set Rick up with someone? He knew a lot of girls that would like Rick.

Hell, he knew a lot of boys who'd like Rick, too. Including himself.

"Well, I gotta go. Need to get in 'fore my dad sees us out here," Daryl said, breaking the awkward silence.

Rick nodded quickly. "Yeah, ok. Oh! I forgot to tell you, my dad made an appointment with Dr. Kirkman for you on Monday, right after school. That work for you?"

"Yeah, sure, I'd just be comin' to your house anyway. Where's his office?"

"It's over on Old Shell Road. I'll take you," he offered.

"Alright. Thanks," Daryl said, opening the door to step out of the car.

"See you tomorrow, Daryl," Rick said.

"Yep, see ya," he answered.

He walked to his house, and made sure Rick had driven away before climbing in through his window.

There were some things he wasn't ready to share yet.


	8. I have to go

**The drama picks up in this one.** **Please review! I'm so nervous about this one and I need to know what y'all think! The good, the bad, and the ugly!** **Warning: there are some descriptions of abuse.** **Also, I switch POV at the very end (it's a surprise who it is). It should be pretty obvious, but just a heads up.**

Chapter Eight—I have to go

Rick had a crush, and he couldn't deny it anymore. He'd spent everyday since his first day at school telling himself that he didn't, and that the way he felt was a kind of platonic affection. But he had to face the truth.

He had a massive crush on Daryl Dixon.

To be honest, Daryl was probably his first real crush. After he realized he was gay, he hadn't really met anyone who was crush-worthy before moving towns.

And then he met Daryl on his first day. And boy, had he made an impression.

Now, when he went to sleep at night, it was to the image of Daryl's sea-blue eyes, and the roughness of his voice. He thought about how quick Daryl was to anger, and slow he was to smile.

But then, he'd been smiling more lately. Rick was happier than he would ever say that he had something to do with that.

The fact that Daryl was trying out this friendship, given how hard it was for him to trust anyone, and the fact that he'd never had one before was… astounding to Rick.

The day before, when he'd seen Daryl without his shirt on—besides being mesmerized by the leanness of his torso, and the sight of his flat, toned belly—he tried to hide his shock when he saw the scars crisscrossing the boy's stomach, chest, and back. He even saw some on his legs. He could only hope that Daryl hadn't noticed his reaction.

He didn't imagine that would've gone over well.

He was sickened by the sight of the scars, but not because they were ugly. They were beautiful, in his opinion, because they were a part of who Daryl was, what had made him who he was. However, he absolutely detested that someone had put those marks there.

He had the impulse to find out who gave him those scars, and kick all their asses. He knew it was a pipe dream, but his instinct to protect Daryl got stronger everyday.

Rick worried about the number of fights Daryl got into. How long must he have been fighting to get that many scars, anyway?

If he could have it his way, he's move Daryl into his house—heck, into his room—and keep him safe from all the assholes in this world.

He'd protect him from the cruel things the people at school said, and the way some of the jerks in town looked at him. He knew none of that would go over well, though.

Daryl was anything but a damsel in distress.

Some things in Daryl's life, however, had seen drastic improvement. He was back on his medication, for example. Given that Dr. Kirkman had full knowledge of the situation, he had written Daryl a prescription for Xanax to hold him over before their first meeting.

Daryl had been taking them regularly since the Thursday after his seizure. Rick was more thankful than he could put into words that Daryl hadn't suffered another one.

Since Rick had dropped Daryl off at his house on Tuesday, he hadn't had the chance to see him outside of school, except for driving him to the garage for work. Daryl protested, but Rick couldn't stand the thought of something happening to him, so he insisted until the other boy caved.

Rick loved getting his way.

On Saturday, Rick convinced Daryl to swim with him again after working on the bike for a few hours. They roughhoused and tried to out-dive each other for hours, until the sun had set, and their hands and feet looked like prunes.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted," Rick said, slowly pulling himself out of the pool, and sitting on the edge. The cold air bit into his skin, and he shivered.

Daryl grunted in agreement, moving to sit next to him.

"Hey, Daryl?" Rick asked, not as tentatively as he would have a week ago. All this time with Daryl was making him bolder.

"Yeah?" Daryl answered, meeting Rick's gaze.

"You wanna stay over?" Daryl's eyebrows shot up in surprise, though he quickly schooled his expression. "We got a guest room, or you're more than welcome to stay in my room. You can call your dad and ask, or…" Rick trailed off as he took in Daryl's closed-off expression.

"Nah, sorry Rick. I gotta get home. My dad won't be too happy if I don't come home, and he don't have a phone for me to call, so," Daryl answered, his tone apologetic despite his blank face.

Rick nodded and looked away, swallowing. "Okay. Maybe some other time."

Daryl shrugged beside him. Silence descended on them for a few minutes before Daryl broke it. "Wish Merle coulda been here today. You'da got a real kick outta him in a pool, I tell ya. You think I'm a cheater? I got nothin' on him," he said, chuckling under his breath.

Rick looked over in shock, trying to figure out whether to prod to find out more about Merle. Daryl brought him up, so surely it would be okay to ask a question or two. Right?

"Merle? He's your brother, right?" he asked, though he knew the answer, of course.

"Yep," Daryl answered shortly.

"How much older is he?" Rick continued.

"Four years. Grew up fast, though. Practically raised me himself," Daryl said, a bit of pride for his brother in his voice.

"Did he?" Rick asked, curious.

"Yeah," Daryl's eyes met his. "Been kinda hard without him. You know, him bein' in jail and all. Used to him bein' around, though not always sober," he finished quietly.

"He drink?" Rick asked tentatively.

"Drink, smoke weed, shoot heroin, you name it, he's tried it. Some of it he does regular. But mostly he's just open to everything that he thinks'll make it all a little easier, you know?" Daryl said sadly. He shook his head. "I've never been into any of that shit. Fucks with your head. Merle's a crazy bastard, and the drugs just make it worse. Hate it."

Rick was surprised at how much Daryl was telling him, but he'd continue to listen as long as he was willing to share. "That what got him put away?" Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah. Was stealin' parts from cars and sellin' 'em. He was workin' at Dale's, where I work now, but he wasn't takin' from him. Had too much respect for the old man. Got caught, and he's got a couple years left before he's up for parole," he answered. "I'll be outta high school 'fore he's out," he continued softly.

Rick put his hand beside Daryl's on the poolside, resisting the urge to pat his hand in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Daryl."

"For what?"

"That you don't have your brother with you. That I can't help."

Daryl shrugged. "You are helpin'."

Rick cocked his head in question.

Daryl's gaze dropped to the pool. "Gettin' me back on my pills. Talkin'. It helps."

Rick nodded, not pushing Daryl to say anymore.

He heard the other boy sigh beside him. "You ready to go?"

Rick nodded, "I'll take you home whenever you want, you know that." He smiled at Daryl.

Daryl smiled back, an action that Rick was still amazed by, and stood up to go change in the shed.

Rick resisted the urge to follow. Sometimes it was hard to suppress his peeping tom tendencies. But he managed.

On Sunday, it was raining, and too cold for Daryl to work in the shed for too long. After an hour or so, Rick practically drug him out, Daryl protesting the whole way.

"It should stop by tomorrow, you can work then," Rick said firmly.

Daryl huffed. "So, what, you takin' me home now?" he asked, his expression guarded. Rick stopped, despite the freezing rain, and turned to meet Daryl's hardened gaze.

"Of course not!" Rick shouted over the downpour. "I'm makin' us some hot chocolate and popcorn, then you and me are watchin' some movies!"

Daryl was so shocked that Rick had to laugh. He turned to close the distance to the back entrance of the house, and realized halfway there that Daryl was walking beside him now.

After gathering snacks, and making Daryl put on some of his pajamas so he could throw their clothes in the dryer, Rick led Daryl into his room for the first time.

Daryl took in his surrounding, his gaze darting from the queen sized bed, to the tidy desk, dresser, and bookshelves, and finally landing on the huge flatscreen mounted across from the bed. He whistled appreciatively.

"Nice TV," he said.

Rick grinned. "Saved for years to get it. I love my movies, gotta have a big screen to watch 'em on."

Rick led Daryl to his bed, and forcibly kept his mind from thinking about the things he'd rather be doing with Daryl in his room right now. He took the right side, and waved his hand to the left to let Daryl know he could sit.

Daryl sat next to him, and leaned back on the pillows behind him. He looked over at Rick, and he had the biggest grin Rick had ever seen on his face. At least, the biggest he'd ever seen on Daryl.

The next few hours were some of the most content he could remember having.

Monday afternoon, Rick drove Daryl to his doctor's appointment. He could sense Daryl's rising anxiety, and he hoped the pills would help keep it in check.

He'd never seen him have a panic attack, and he didn't want to start now.

He pulled into the clinic's parking lot, and turned off the engine. He looked over at Daryl, who was chewing on his thumbnail and staring off into space.

"Hey," he said softly. Daryl turned to meet his gaze, his eyes glazed over in thought. "You need a minute?"

Daryl shook his head, and pushed open his door to step out of the car. Rick got out on his side, and walked with him up to the entrance. He held the door open for Daryl, who gave him a small smile.

Rick took a seat in the waiting room while Daryl walked up to the front desk to sign in. He came back to join Rick a moment later.

"Said it'll just be a few minutes," he said as he sat down.

Rick nodded, but remained silent. He wanted to give Daryl the quiet he seemed to need.

When Daryl's name was called, he stood up, and threw a grateful smile at Rick before following the nurse through the door.

Rick didn't see him again for an hour. By the end of it, he felt like he could use a Xanax himself.

He didn't like the idea of a man that Daryl didn't know trying to pry into his personal life. Daryl still had a lot of trouble opening up to Rick, and he seemed to trust him some now. How he'd managed to get diagnosed before, with how closed- off he was, was a mystery to Rick.

When Daryl walked back out into the waiting room, he didn't look sad, or weighed down, or angry. In all honesty, he didn't look like much of anything, except maybe in a bit of shock.

Rick stood up to meet him. "You ok?" he asked, trying the keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Daryl raised his eyes from the floor to meet Rick's, and nodded. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah. Good. Let's get outta here."

Rick nodded, and walked in step with Daryl back to his jeep. He resisted the urge to open Daryl's door for him. Treating him like he was fragile was not the right way to go.

When he got the car started and was pulling out of the parking lot, Daryl spoke again. "You mind takin' a detour?"

"No, it's fine. Where to?" he asked.

"Keep goin' straight, and turn right about a mile up, on Pier Street. Just need a minute to think," he answered distractedly.

Rick nodded, though Daryl didn't see him, and followed his directions. After turning on the correct street, he drove a bit before he came upon a small lake that he hadn't know about. There was a wooden pier that extended over it for about a hundred feet. He parked in the small lot, and Daryl exited the car before he even turned it off.

He wasn't sure whether to follow or leave Daryl alone, but as Daryl crossed in front of the car, he waved for Rick to come with him. Rick got out and walked behind the other boy as he went to the end of the pier and sat down, his feet dangling over the edge. Rick sat beside him, waiting for Daryl to break the silence.

"I've talked about all this before, you know. It shouldn't be this hard doin' it again, should it?" Daryl asked, his voice strained. Rick felt his heart break at the hopeless expression on his face, and he tried his best not to offer physical comfort. But short of cutting off his own arm, he was incapable of stopping.

He reached out his hand and left it hovering over Daryl's shoulder, waiting. Daryl hesitated, but then gave a small nod. Rick dropped his hand, and squeezed Daryl's shoulder. Daryl's head fell forward, and he just looked so heartbroken that Rick had to move closer, resting his arm across Daryl's back.

To his surprise, Daryl leaned back into his touch.

"I'm sorry," Rick said. "It's not fair to have to relive somethin' that's painful. I wish I knew some way to help you."

Daryl nodded, and lifted his head to meet Rick's gaze. "You're doin' fine. Sorry I'm bein' such a pussy."

"Shut your mouth," Rick answered sternly. "It's normal to be upset. I was the one cryin' on your shoulder the other day. You think I'm a pussy?" he asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"This ain't any different." Daryl shrugged, but didn't argue the point, to Rick's relief.

They sat in silence for a while. Rick felt relieved that he could comfort Daryl, and found joy in the feeling of his bony shoulders under his arm.

Daryl was the one to break the silence again. "We should head out."

"Whenever you're ready," Rick replied.

Daryl shrugged off Rick's arm, but shot him a smirk, and stood up. He offered Rick his hand to pull him up from the ground.

When Rick's hand clasped Daryl's he felt the warmth of his palm radiate to his, and he couldn't help but feel that he belonged here, at Daryl's side. He released Daryl's hand when he was on his feet. Unfortunately, he didn't know if Daryl could ever feel the same.

But he'd be his friend, because it was better to have unrequited love than not have Daryl in his life at all.

For the rest of the week, Daryl's smiles were less frequent. He was a little sadder, a little bit rougher.

But every once in a while, if Rick could make him laugh, he would brighten. He'd have just a few moments of what looked like peace come across his face. And Rick would mourn the loss of his happiness once it faded again.

Despite the fact that he seemed sadder, Daryl actually got a little better each day. To Rick, it was like he was forced to relive something painful, and it caused him to go back to when it happened, somehow. It was taking him a few days to snap out of it and get back to the present, but he was slowly and surely making his way back.

To me, Rick couldn't help but think.

It was true, though. If Daryl was showing improvement in his moods at all, it was only towards Rick. And maybe Carol as well, as he'd seen the two of them walking together after school one day, and though he didn't have a smile on his face, Daryl also wasn't scowling.

Rick was relieved to see someone else show Daryl that he was important.

Even Mr. Walsh was a bit nicer to him, though Daryl wasn't as quick to forgive. Mr. Walsh didn't ignore him in class anymore, but now Daryl was making a big show looking for who Mr. Walsh was speaking to whenever he was called on.

Rick could practically see Mr. Walsh biting his tongue, and he had to admire his willpower, just a little. When Daryl wanted to piss you off, he was usually successful.

The only person he was never antagonistic towards, not since those first days, was Rick. Rather than feeling proud, or special, he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There was no way that life could be this good.

Friday came and went, and Rick left Daryl at his house that night with a pit in his stomach. He could feel something bad coming, but he didn't know what it was.

He would just have to wait, and meet it when it came.

On Saturday, Rick dropped by Daryl's house in the afternoon to pick him up, but he wasn't home. He even walked up and knocked, though Daryl had expressly told him not to.

But no one answered the door.

Rick felt the same uneasiness that had plagued him the night before, and decided that a little snooping wouldn't hurt. He stepped off of the rotting porch, and began looking in windows on the side of the house.

Most had blinds or curtains covering them from the inside, so Rick couldn't get a good view. He crossed the backyard to the other side of the house and saw there were only two windows remaining.

The first revealed a dark bedroom. Bottles littered the floor along with clothes and other debris. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade.

But there was no sign of Daryl.

He came up to the last window and immediately realized that something was wrong. The glass was broken, and, to his horror, Rick saw blood on some of the jagged edges still attached to the frame.

He peered through the window, and he literally felt his heart freeze in his chest. There was blood on the carpet, and more shards of glass. A bookshelf had been pushed over, and lay across the twin-sized bed, which was practically crushed by the weight.

Books were scattered across the floor, smeared in the blood. And then Rick saw it.

Daryl's bookbag. This was Daryl's room.

Knowing he needed to get the hell in there, but that the window was definitely not the safest way to go, Rick ran to the back door, and tried the knob.

Nothing.

He tried knocking one more time, louder than before, to see if anyone would answer.

Nothing.

I don't have a choice, he thought. It's Daryl.

With all of the strength he had in him, mixed with a lot of worry and desperation, Rick kicked the door, aiming for the space next to the knob.

Wood splintered but didn't crack. He kicked again. This time the door swung open, and Rick stepped cautiously inside. He walked through the kitchen, and saw a living room in front of him—empty—and a hallway that led to his right. There were five doors leading off the hallway, and Rick tried them in order. He knew Daryl wasn't in two of the rooms, the ones that would most likely be the two last doors.

The first door was only a closet. Rick opened the door across from it, which revealed a small bedroom. He guessed that it was Merle's room, though it looked like it hadn't been occupied for a while.

The third door, he realized, had blood smeared on the handle. He felt his heart skip a beat as he put his hand on the knob and twisted it to open.

It was a bathroom. And on the floor was Daryl. Bloody, beaten, and unconscious.

Rick held back a scream. He knew panicking wouldn't help his friend. He took in the needle and thread that were on the floor next to Daryl, and felt his stomach clench at the idea of what Daryl would have done with them if he hadn't passed out.

Rick moved forward and knelt over the boy, pressing two fingers into the hollow of his neck. He felt a pulse, and couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him.

Knees shaking, he stood and pulled out his cellphone to dial 911.

He gave them the address and let them know there was an injured person to be taken to the hospital.

Then he called his mom. She answered on the third ring.

"Hello?" she said, sounding breathless, as if she'd run for the phone.

"Mom," he breathed, his voice cracking.

"Rick?" She sounded worried now. "What's happened? Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine. It's Daryl, Mom. I came to his house and he didn't answer, so I…" he made himself stop and take a few deep breaths. If he rambled he would never get the story out. "He's hurt. I think it's bad. I called 911, and they're coming. Can you tell me what to do?"

When she spoke again, her voice was professional, like the nurse she was. "Did you feel for his pulse?"

"Yes, it's strong."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Where is he? On the floor?"

"Yeah, in the bathroom."

"Is he on his back?"

Rick frowned. "No, his stomach. Should I turn him?"

"No," she replied. "Don't move him until help arrives, you could injure him further. Honestly honey, there isn't much you can do. See if he'll wake, but don't jostle or startle him. Make sure he keeps breathing and call me if anything changes."

"OK. Thanks, mom."

"Call me when you know which hospital they're taking him to. Your father and I will meet you there. I'll drop Carl off with a friend," she said.

"Will do. Talk to you soon," he replied, and hung up. He put his phone back in his pocket and knelt next to Daryl again. The boy was shirtless, but there was a bundled piece of ripped cloth in the corner that Rick guessed used to be his shirt. He took off his coat and gently laid it on Daryl's back to help him regain some warmth, and tilted his head to see Daryl's face.

It was covered in blood.

Feeling sick, Rick stood quickly. He couldn't stand to see Daryl like this and not be able to do something to help.

Just then, he heard sirens coming, and he ran to the front door to open it for the EMTs. They stabilized Daryl on a stretcher after checking his vitals, and carried him to the ambulance. Rick climbed into the back with them, and grasped Daryl's hand. They couldn't get rid of him if they tried.

Luckily, they didn't say anything.

He found out where they were going and texted him mom to let her know. He hoped they'd be there soon.

When they stopped at the Emergency Room entrance, they rolled Daryl away, and directed Rick to the waiting room. It wasn't more than ten minutes before he saw his parents walk through the doors, and he leapt up to meet them.

"Thank god. Mom, they took him back there, but they wouldn't tell me anything. Please, find out—" he rambled.

His mom shushed him, and pulled him close for a hug. Her hand ran up and down his back soothingly, and, despite his worry, he felt himself relax minutely. She pulled back to look him in the eye.

"This is my hospital, thank God. I'll find out what's happening," she said, and walked to the admitting desk.

Forty-five anxious minutes later, Rick and his dad were joined by a troubled Beth, who was biting her lip mercilessly.

"Stop that," his dad said, reaching out to tug her lip from her teeth. She smiled weakly, and sat next to Rick, taking his hand in hers.

"He's not as bad as he looked, sweetheart, but he has some broken ribs and a concussion. They got him awake, and he's talking," she explained.

"But the blood," he began. His mom shook her head.

"I know it looked bad. The nurses told me. But most of it came from a gash on his head, which bleed a lot. He had a few crapes on his hands and shoulders, but nothing serious."

Rick felt sick at the abuse that Daryl had suffered, but he was so relieved that Daryl was awake and not in serious condition that he felt faint. He looked to his mother to thank her, but her expression wasn't what he'd thought it would be.

"What else, honey?" his dad asked, reaching forward to take her other hand. She squeezed it gently, and her eyes filled with tears.

"When they were taking the x-ray to see his ribs, they noticed other injuries. A lot of them," she took a deep breath. "And some of them are quite old."

Rick felt remorse course through him. Of course Daryl was being abused. He'd seen the scars. Despite all the evidence of abuse, however, Rick had somehow convinced himself that Daryl simply got into a lot of fights.

How stupid and naïve he'd been.

"Rick?" his mom asked, peering at him anxiously. "Do you know something?"

"I didn't until just now," he replied wearily. "When we went swimming, I noticed he has scars all over… his chest, his back, his legs. I thought they were from fights, but… I just didn't let myself believe that it could be from something like this." He felt the tears come to his eyes and held them at bay.

He was an awful friend. He didn't deserve to cry.

"Who would do something like this?" he asked desperately.

"Someone evil, sweetheart. There's no hope in understanding people like that. All we can do is try to help Daryl," his mom replied softly.

"Have they called CPS, yet?" his dad asked. Child Protective Services, Rick's mind automatically supplied.

His mom nodded. "And the police. They're on their way. The doctor said we can see him after they interview him."

Rick sighed, and settled in to wait.

Three hours later, Rick watched as two cops and a CPS agent exited the emergency room doors. According to his mom, they were in the process of finding Daryl a room, but hadn't moved him yet.

The cops exited the hospital, but the other came into the waiting room.

"Jimmy," the CPS agent, a Hispanic woman, said as she walked towards them.

His dad rose to greet her, and they shook hands. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miranda. I wish it was under better circumstances."

Miranda nodded wearily, and ran a hand over her face. She seemed to notice Rick and his mom, as they rose to stand next to his dad.

"Miranda, this is Beth, my wife, and my oldest son, Rick," he said. He turned to his family and gestured to the woman. "Beth, Rick, this is Miranda Morales. She's a CPS agent. We've worked together on a few cases."

"You've only been here, what, two weeks?" Miranda asked. "And you've already worked with the same agent more than once. That doesn't bode well for our small town."

"It's the same everywhere, unfortunately," his dad said sadly. "This one is personal, though, which is why I called you when I found out you were the one they were sending. Daryl is a friend of my son's. He's the one that found him."

Miranda met Rick's eyes, and offered him a sympathetic smile. "You're a good friend, Rick. You did the right thing. Hopefully now, we can get him somewhere safe." She sighed. "Unfortunately, that requires his cooperation, which we're not getting."

Rick's brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

Miranda met Jimmy's eyes, questioning. Rick turned to his dad, his face set with determination.

His dad shook his head, a small, humorless smile on his lips. "Might as well say it in front of them. Rick'll beat it out of me later if you don't."

Rick was glad that his dad was aware of the lengths he would go to in order to help Daryl.

"He won't admit to anything. Told us that it's none of our business, and he'll be an adult soon. He said, and I quote, "Y'all don't know what the hell you're talking about, so get the 'f' out of here and don't let the door hit you on the way out." She substituted Daryl's rather vulgar language for a letter, but the Grimes family understood the meaning.

Rick almost smiled, because he could imagine Daryl saying just that. But he couldn't. Now was not the time for Daryl's belligerence. He needed to see him, to make him understand that he needed help.

This wasn't going to easy.

"Can I see him?" he asked, looking from his parents to Miranda.

Miranda nodded. "Please, try to help him understand that we're only trying to help. He needs to get out of there."

Rick nodded, and she led him past the ER doors and to the rather large room where they were keeping Daryl.

She pointed to the last bed on the right, which had the curtain pulled to hide the occupant, sent him an encouraging smile, and left.

Rick took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and walked to Daryl's bed.

"Daryl?" he called tentatively. No one answered.

He pulled the curtain back, and found Daryl lying on his side, facing away from Rick. His eyes were open, but he didn't seem to know Rick was there.

"Daryl?" he repeated. "How're you feelin'?" No response.

Pain shot through his heart. Daryl was ignoring him. What had he done?

Rick took a seat in the chair beside Daryl's bed. He hesitated, unsure. Then, despite the voice in his head telling him this was a very bad idea, he reached forward and placed a hand on Daryl's arm.

He reacted as if he'd been shocked, jerking out of Rick's reach, and turning to face him. His face was full of pain and rage, and Rick felt his heart sink to his feet.

"What the fuck d'you want?" Daryl snarled.

Rick shrank away before making himself sit up straight. He wasn't going to let Daryl frighten him away.

"I came to see how you're feelin'," he answered quietly.

"How I'm feelin'?" Daryl replied, his voice full of vitriol. "I'm fuckin' peachy, now leave me the hell alone. Don't come back."

Rick felt tears prick his eyes again, but forced them back. Now wasn't the time or place.

"Daryl," he started hesitantly. Daryl didn't interrupt, just watched him, hate in his eyes. "I'm sorry this is happenin'. I wish I could make it easier for you, but these people are just tryin' to help—"

Daryl cut him off. "You know how you coulda made it easier? You coulda minded your own fuckin' business. You never shoulda brought me here."

Rick's mouth opened in shock. "What, you wanted me to leave you on the bathroom floor? You could've bled to death!"

Daryl shrugged carelessly, then winced at the movement. "There's worse things."

Dread filled Rick's stomach at Daryl words. "I can't think of anythin' worse than that," he whispered.

Daryl scoffed, and looked away. "Get out, Grimes. I don't want you here."

"I'm your friend, Daryl. If I'm not here, then I'll be out in the waiting room. I'm not goin' anywhere," Rick replied stubbornly.

Daryl's blue eyes met his, and rather than the sea, Rick saw only cold, impenetrable ice. He physically recoiled at the lack of emotion in them.

"I don't have friends, and I don't need 'em. Get the fuck out."

This time, Rick couldn't stop the tears from coming, but he turned away quickly, hoping Daryl hadn't seen. He left as slowly as he could manage, though it was still practically a sprint.

He didn't stop until he reached the parking lot. And then he let himself cry.

Driving was always the fastest way for Rick to sort out a problem. Some people, like his mom, thought best in the shower. His dad preferred to work problems out in the office.

Rick didn't know if Carl knew how to think properly.

But for Rick, whenever he felt weighed down, he drove. So, he asked his dad to drive him to Daryl's house, where he'd left his car.

On the way there, surprisingly, he thought of a possible solution to the problem. He hadn't even gotten behind a wheel yet.

"Dad, could you do me a favor?" he asked.

His dad looked over at him, and studied his expression. "You know I will son, if it's something I can do."

"I need you to find out where someone is," Rick said.

His dad's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

Rick took a deep breath in, and released it slowly. Here goes nothing, he thought.

"I wanna talk to Merle Dixon," he answered.

Jimmy's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't immediately dismiss the idea, which Rick appreciated. "And how do you expect him to help?" he asked, no condescension in his voice.

"Daryl respects him, Dad. He loves him," he said. "He might be the only person he loves," he continued quietly. He saw his dad turn to him again, concern etched on his face.

"And you think he could convince Daryl to accept help?"

Rick nodded, and shrugged. He hoped so, at least. "Daryl told me that Merle practically raised him. He said it was easier with him around, you know? He might respect his opinion more than ours, because it sounds like Merle went through the same thing."

Jimmy shook his head sadly. "These poor boys. It's too bad nothin' could've been done earlier. Miranda told me they have a file on them as wide as a dictionary. But every time someone went out there, it was the same. Nobody'd talk."

"Why, Dad? Why wouldn't they try to get help?"

Jimmy met his eyes, and a world of pain and sadness looked out at him. "They've been taught to rely on themselves their whole lives, son. They don't trust adults, and no one ever gave them cause to. Why should they trust strangers when the one person who should love them, their father, abused them?"

Rick, all cried out, could only clench his fists in impotent rage. He felt so helpless.

But maybe he didn't have to. Perhaps Merle was the answer. If only he could get the man to listen to him, and get him to convince Daryl to accept the help they were offering.

"So, will you help me, Dad? Merle's in prison but I don't know where."

His dad sighed. "What's he in for?"

"Theft. Stole car parts and sold 'em."

His dad laughed, to Rick's surprise. "What?"

"Nothin'," he replied. "He just sounds like me." He shot Rick a wicked smile. "But I didn't get caught."

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

By the time Rick drove off in his car, he knew where to find Merle Dixon. After promising his dad that he'd call when he got there and when he was on his way back, he put the address in his iPhone and followed the directions it gave him.

He pulled up to the large gray building, and the apprehension in his belly grew into fear. What if this failed?

Then they'd find another way to help Daryl, a different part of his mind answered. There was never only one solution to a problem, unless it was a math problem.

And this wasn't as simple as one of those.

After sending a text to his dad to let him know he'd arrived, he walked up to the entrance, taking in the large fenced off area behind the building, which he could just see a bit of. He made out barbed wire, and some towers, which Rick assumed were for the guards.

He entered the building and walked up to the attendant. After signing the log, and handing over his driver's license and keys, he walked through the metal detector and followed the guard through a series of hallways before being led into a room filled with tables.

There were other visitors in there, but not many. Rick stood, waiting to be told what to do.

The guard behind him cleared his throat. "Sit, kid. What'choo waitin' for?"

Rick sat in the seat nearest to him, and turned to face the guard. "I'm meetin' Merle Dixon, but I've never seen him before."

He heard a buzz sound in the room, and he looked around for the source of the noise.

"Yer in luck, kid, there 'e is now," the guard chuckled humorlessly.

Rick faced the barred entrance on the other side of the room and gulped. Bracketed by two large guards was a muscled, mean-looking man that could only be Daryl's brother. He could see the family resemblance immediately.

He watched as the man's eyes scanned the room, and finally landed on him. He felt his face burn under his scrutiny, but kept eye contact. He wasn't afraid of him.

Merle walked across the room, and sat down in front of Rick, his eyes wary. "You here for me?" he asked gruffly.

The tone of his voice, so full of distrust, reminded Rick of Daryl forcefully, and he had to stifle the urge to smile.

"Yeah. I'm here about your brother."

Merle went from distrustful to downright suspicious in a second. His face closed down, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Whatcha want with my brother?"

Rick cleared his throat. "I want to help him."

Merle laughed, a hoarse, humorless sound. "Help? How you gonna help Daryl? That boy don't need no help. He's a Dixon," he replied, arrogance coloring his voice.

Rick shook his head. "I think you know. Probably happened to you, too."

Merle's face became dangerous at that, and Rick resisted the urge to gulp nervously.

Rick quickly continued. "The way he made it sound, maybe you kept the worst of it from him?" He wasn't sure that was right until he saw the flash of concern on Merle's face, though, just like his brother, he smothered it quickly.

"Dunno whatcha talkin' about," Merle muttered. "Get on outta here, kid. I got better things to do with my time then listen to this shit."

"Wait!" Rick said before Merle could stand. The man looked at him in annoyance, so he talked quickly. "I think it's worse. Earlier today, I found him beaten, lying in his own blood. He coulda died if I hadn't gone lookin'. I don't want him to get hurt anymore," Rick finished desperately.

Merle scoffed. "And what're you gonna do 'bout it, huh? Yer just a kid yourself."

"Child Protective Services, they wanna put him in the system," he began, and at that Merle stood up abruptly.

"Fuck that. Daryl'll be 18 'fore long, and those fuckin' places are no better than what he's got now. You leave him alone, boy." Before Rick could get another word in, Merle stormed off, and was being let in through the gate, out of Rick's reach.

He'd failed. He had wanted to tell Merle that there was no way that he'd let Daryl get put in some boy's home. He didn't care if he had to beg and plead, or, if worse came to worst, hide Daryl in his closet. He wouldn't let anyone hurt Daryl again.

But they had to get him out of that house first.

Rick felt the weight of his failure on the way out to his car, and his heart was as heavy as his hands as he dialed his dad's phone. He told him he was on his way back to the hospital, and his dad let him know that his mom was still there, but he was going to pick Carl up and stay at the house tonight.

Rick told him he'd explain what happened later, and that he'd stay at the hospital tonight. Somehow, he thought his dad knew that he's failed. His dad knew how people like Merle and Daryl thought, because he was a lot like them once.

Maybe I'm not cut out for this, Rick thought. Maybe my life has been too good for me to really understand. Daryl deserves someone who knows what he's going through.

Regardless of what Daryl deserved, though, he had Rick. He could throw whatever insults he wanted; he could call him every name in the book.

Even if all he could do was be there to listen, Rick wasn't going anywhere.

Rick arrived at the hospital and called his mom. He knew Daryl was being moved, and figured it happened while he was away. Miranda had made it sound like it would be soon.

"Hello? Rick?" his mom said.

"Hey, mom," Rick replied, his voice heavy. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the cafeteria on the third floor. Meet me here?"

"Sure, be there in a sec." Rick hung up and got out of the car.

When he walked into the cafeteria, Rick saw his mom and Miranda sharing a table, both with a cup of coffee in front of them. He went over to join them.

"Hello, sweetheart," his mom said, rubbing his shoulder affectionately as he sat down. He forced a smile, and then nodded at Miranda.

"Any luck?" he asked. Miranda shook her head, frustration coloring her expression.

"Not a word. Now he won't even yell. He just pretends we aren't there. The doctor restricted visitors about an hour ago. He needs rest before we try again. He's still in a considerable amount of pain, but he won't take any of the strong painkillers," she said.

Rick shook his head, remembering the conversation he'd had with Daryl a few days ago. Merle did drugs, but Daryl stayed away from them. Apparently even in situations like this.

"I talked to Dad already, but I'm gonna stay here tonight, Mom. Just in case," he said. She nodded her understanding.

"I'll show you where some of the doctors sleep when they're on call. We can sneak you in. I'm staying, too, but I have to work," she said with a soft smile.

Rick nodded, and he felt the fatigue he had been fighting for a while now settle on his shoulders. His mom sensed it, and stood up from the table. "It was lovely talking with you, Miranda. I'm going to show Rick to a bed so he doesn't fall over. We'll see you tomorrow?"

Miranda nodded and mirrored her action. "Yep, I'll be here bright and early."

Rick shook her hand, thankful for her diligence. "See you then."

He and his mom left the cafeteria after he assured her he wasn't hungry. There was no way he could eat with his nerves the way they were.

She showed him to a small room with two bunk beds in it, and sat next to him when he lay down. "Tell me what happened," she said softly. "I can see that it's bothering you. Maybe I can help."

Rick took even breaths, trying to keep his emotions in check. He told her about his visit with Merle. He explained how he'd guessed correctly, that Merle had protected his brother for a while, at least some.

And then he told her how he failed.

When he got to the end, he couldn't hold the tears in. He tried to stop them, but the helplessness stole over him and felt like a great pressure was on his chest.

There was nothing he could do to help his friend. His best friend.

And he might've lost Daryl for good.

His mom pulled him into her embrace and shushed him, smoothing his hair back from his face. She held him until his tears dried out, and promised to wake him in the morning. She kissed him good night, and stood to leave.

"Mom?" he called out. He heard her stop. "Thank you."

"Of course, sweetheart," she replied. And then she turned off the light, and closed the door.

Damn kid was still on his mind the next day, though he tried to forget about him. Didn't know what he was talking about, saying Daryl needed help from strangers.

Kid obviously didn't know his baby brother as well as he did.

Merle walked through the yard with his posse, keeping an eye out for any threats. Jenkins and Monroe had been spouting shit last week, and he needed to be careful of any uprising. Fuckers had another thing coming if they thought they could replace Merle Dixon.

He heard a pig call his name, and turned to the gate. "What?" he yelled, annoyed.

"You got a visitor," the pig replied, waving him forward.

Merle rolled his eyes. If it was that fucking kid again, he was gonna make the prissy shithead piss his rich little pants.

The pig led him to the visitor room and buzzed him in. His eyes automatically scanned the room, taking in where everyone was, and how far away he was from the exits. After his first visual sweep, he realized he hadn't spotted the kid.

Or Daryl.

There was only one person sitting alone, so he made his way over to the table in the far corner cautiously. His eyes lit up when he took in exactly what he was seeing.

"Well, hello there, sweet thing. You here to visit ol' Merle?" he asked, honey in his voice.

The little blonde met his eyes, something like velvet and steel in her own, and shot him a bland smile. "Hello, Mr. Dixon. My name is Beth Grimes."

**Thank you so much for reading! I love all of you!**


	9. The stars came fallin' on our heads

**I realized that I haven't put any disclaimers up yet. Ugh.** ***I don't own anything.** **There we go!**Chapter Nine—The stars came fallin' on our heads

Daryl was sick and tired of this shit. He felt like he'd been here a month, but it'd only been a day. Last night was almost worse than sleeping in his own bed, afraid he was gonna be woken up by a slap.

At least there, he knew what to expect.

Here, there was always new people coming in, pretending to care about 'how he was feeling.' If they really cared how he felt, they would've let him the fuck outta here by now.

To make matters worse, every time they door opened to his room, he could see people in the hallway: Mr. Grimes, Beth, cops, that government bitch.

Rick.

Daryl's heart panged at the thought of him, but he ignored it. He didn't need him.

He didn't need anyone.

Daryl was woken up every few hours by another nurse to take blood, or check his vitals, or some other bullshit, so by the time the lady from CPS came in he was in a really bad mood. Sleep deprivation did that to a guy.

He was eating his breakfast—overcooked eggs, gummy bacon, and cold toast—and watching the news when she entered the room.

Without knocking, of course.

"Good morning, Mr. Dixon. Can I call you Daryl?" she asked. Just like he did yesterday when she asked the same damn question, he shrugged. She could call him Santa Clause or Jean Claude Van Damme for all he cared.

He still wasn't talking.

"How are you feeling today?"

Another shrug.

"Have you spoken with Rick?" she asked. He detected a bit of smugness in her voice.

Fucking bitch.

He looked up at her, trying to convey his annoyance without having to speak. She had to know that talking about Rick was a quick way to piss him off. Or was that what she wanted?

Daryl wasn't really angry at Rick anymore. He knew why Rick called the cops when he found him unconscious, and he couldn't hate him for being a friend. Perhaps irrationally, though, Daryl felt like if Rick had minded his own business, none of this bullshit would be happening.

Today was Sunday. If Rick hadn't broken into his house, Daryl would've patched himself up eventually—like he always did, fuck these doctors who said it was more than he could've handled on his own—and avoided his father until Rick picked him up.

He should be at Rick's, fixing up Mr. Grimes's bike. Not in this shithole, dodging questions.

"I came to see whether you're ready to talk about what's been happening, Daryl," the lady said.

He sneered at her, and returned his attention to the TV.

He heard her sigh as she moved closer and took the chair next to his bed. He tensed up automatically at her proximity.

"We know that your dad's been hurting you, Daryl. The cops found him at a bar down the street from your house, and brought him in. He has cuts like yours from the broken window. He also has bruised and bloody knuckles, presumably from when he was beating you," she continued, no inflection in her voice. She offered no sympathy, which Daryl was reluctantly grateful for. He couldn't deal with that right now.

"They can hold him for a few more hours without cause, but they need to charge him with something in order to keep him there. We need you for that. We need you to help yourself here, Daryl. Without you, your dad is back on the street, back in your life, hurting you. Please, don't let that happen."

Daryl kept his eyes facing the TV, his mind spinning. He knew what she wanted, and what would happen when she got it. Kids from his neighborhood had gone down the same path, and they always ended up in the same place.

In the system.

Well, screw that. His father was an evil bastard, he knew that. But he was an evil that Daryl could handle.

Better the devil you know, and all that.

The lady sighed one more time, and stood up. She pulled a card out of her wallet and placed in on his food table. "Call me if you change your mind," she said, then turned away and left.

A couple hours passed, and he'd just gotten up to take a piss, clutching his ribs because they hurt like a bitch, when his door opened, again. This time, when he saw who it was, his first reaction wasn't to punch the asshole in the face.

"Martinez?" he said, shocked. What the fuck was he doing here?

"What the fuck am I doin' here, right?" Martinez asked with a big grin on his face.

Daryl smirked, and shoved past him to get into the bathroom. Ouch. Maybe shoving wasn't a good idea. "Yeah, asshole. How'd you know I was here?"

"Small town, man. Whole neighborhood saw you get put in that ambulance, and those that didn't, heard 'bout it within five minutes. You know how it is, bro," he answered.

Daryl nodded, though Martinez couldn't see him. He figured everyone knew by now. The Dixons were always making the news around here.

He washed his hands and slowly made his way back to the bed, easing himself onto it gently. Now wasn't the time to act macho, he fucking hurt too much.

"So, what? You came to check up on me?" Daryl asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Aw, you know I love ya, man. Had to check up on my boy," Martinez answered, moving to sit next to Daryl on the bed, but facing him instead of sitting in the same direction. He leaned in, their faces only an inch apart.

Daryl felt uncomfortable being this close to him, since he hadn't really thought of him much since his last botched attempt to screw around with him. He'd only really thought about Rick since then.

And just as he thought the name, the boy he was trying not to think about knocked softly and opened the door. Daryl jerked back from Martinez instinctually, straining his ribs in the process. Martinez's face furrowed in concern, and he leaned forward into Daryl's space again.

"You okay, man?" Daryl nodded briskly, silent. Martinez's concerned expression changed to a grin as he stood to greet the newcomer. "Hey, I'm Caesar, but everyone calls me Martinez," he said to Rick, holding out his hand.

Rick stepped forward, his eyes darting from Daryl to Martinez and back. "Rick Grimes," he said. "You're a friend of Daryl's, I'm guessing?"

Martinez grinned lasciviously. "You guess correctly, my friend." He turned to Daryl. "Listen, bro, I gotta run, just came to check up on you. Gonna visit Merle later if you wanna send word or anything."

Daryl shook his head, trying to keep the rest of his body still. "Just don't tell him 'bout this."

Martinez nodded. "Sure, man, whatever. But you know he'll find out sooner or later. It's Merle." His brow furrowed again. "Why're you in so much pain, don't they give you anythin' for it?"

Daryl shrugged, ready for him to leave. He wanted to be alone.

Martinez got the silent message, and shot them both a smile on his way out. Daryl closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rock-hard pillows behind him.

"You okay?" he heard Rick say softly, uncertainly.

Daryl didn't answer right away, just opened his eyes and gazed at Rick. What the kid had done still rankled, though, deep down, Daryl knew that wasn't fair. What would he have done, if he'd found Rick in a puddle of his own blood?

He knew he only did what he did because he thought of Daryl as a friend.

That didn't matter, though. It was obvious this wasn't gonna work out. Rick was too perfect, too isolated from the real world, to know what Daryl had to do just to survive.

Rick's parents loved him. He could never understand.

Daryl sighed wearily. He was tired of this. "M'fine," he replied.

Rick's eyes got a little wide, and he took a small step closer.

Probably relieved I haven't started yelling yet, Daryl thought.

"Leave, Grimes," he said, his voice harsher than before.

Rick's face fell, and Daryl felt a physical ache in his chest at the sight. But he held fast.

"Daryl, please just talk to m—" he began.

"I said leave! I don't want your pity, now get the fuck out!" Daryl shouted, taking Rick by surprise. Rick looked like he was gonna turn tail and run, but then he saw that same expression he'd seen before. Rick's jaw set, and his chin lifted.

Ah, shit. He was ready for a fight.

"No, Daryl. I know what you're doin', and I'm not gonna let you push me away. We've been over this before, and nothin's changed," he said stubbornly. He moved forward and took a seat in the chair by Daryl's bed.

Daryl's jaw clenched in frustration and anger. Didn't Rick get it? This could never work. Daryl was damaged goods, the whole Dixon family was. Everyone else saw it. Why didn't Rick?

There was another knock on the door, and a nurse walked in. It was like his room was fucking Grand Central Station.

"Mr. Dixon, we're bringing you down for your head CT now," she said brightly. Daryl sneered at her, but she didn't seem to notice. She looked to Rick. "You can stay here if you want, he shouldn't be long."

"He was just leavin'," Daryl cut in. He ignored the hurt expression on Rick's face, and moved out of the bed to sit in the wheelchair she pushed in front of her.

"Daryl, I wanna stay. We still need to talk," Rick said earnestly, stubbornly.

"I'm done talkin'," Daryl said, keeping his eyes on his feet. He knew if he looked at Rick's face, he'd cave. And that wouldn't help either one of them.

Rick was better off getting out now. And it was better for Daryl to get rid of these stupid ideas of having a friend. He had his brother, and some people to fuck around with, and that was enough.

He didn't need or want anything more. Everything good eventually left, anyway.

The nurse wheeled Daryl out of the room, and Daryl hoped that Rick would be gone when he got back.

He really did.

Without medical cause to hold him in the hospital any longer, Daryl was released the next morning, just in time for a late arrival to school.

He walked into Bio, having missed English, and took a seat at a table on the opposite side of where Rick sat at their regular table. Rick's expression went from confusion, to hurt, to anger and frustration in a matter of seconds, but Daryl looked away before he was tempted to watch Rick for the rest of class.

Walsh cleared his throat from the front of the room. "Kind of you to join us, Mr. Dixon," he said, using his recently developed 'nice' voice. Daryl kept the urge to roll his eyes in check, but just barely. "Do you have a note for me?"

Daryl remembered the doctor's note that the hospital had given him for his late arrival—luckily Martinez had been there to drive him or he probably wouldn't have made it before last period- and he reached in his bag to pull it out. He held it out to Walsh, who took it, opened it briefly to scan it, and nodded before moving away to place it on his desk.

"Alright class, let's finish up the review for the test tomorrow…" Walsh began. Daryl tuned him out. He hadn't really been in the mood to come to school today, but didn't really have anything else to do. It was better than facing his old man, who he hadn't seen since their fight. He was gonna be pissed after being drug in by the police.

Daryl was jerked back into the present when the bell rang to signal the end of class. He knew he'd arrived with only a few minutes left in Bio, but it felt like he'd barely sat down. He must've really been zoning out.

After slowly gathering his things and picking up his bag, Daryl walked out of class, his mind occupied with how he was gonna pass the test tomorrow after missing the review. Whatever. It's not like his grade could get much worse.

He realized someone was walking with him when he turned the corner towards his locker and the person next to him stayed in step with him. He turned his head to find Rick next to him, his face set.

There was something almost sad about his eyes, though. Daryl tried not to think about it.

"I was at the hospital last night," Rick said softly. "The doctor told us that you didn't want any more visitors and wouldn't let us in."

Daryl grunted. Yeah, he figured that'd work. Rick couldn't seem to get the message on his own.

"Why, Daryl? What did I do to you?" A hint of anger was creeping into Rick's voice now. Daryl was thankful. He couldn't handle much more of sad Rick. Anger he could deal with.

He'd been dealing with it for almost eighteen years, after all.

"Nothin', Grimes. Just don't need anymore sympathy or coddlin'," Daryl said shortly.

"Coddlin'?" Rick asked sharply. "We weren't coddlin' you, Daryl. We're worried about you. I'm worried about you, 'cause you're my friend, and your dad—"

Daryl cut him off. "Way I see it, I been handlin' myself for over seventeen years, and I'm still kickin'. Don't need you around to protect me, Rick. And friendship is a two way street as far as I remember. I'm done. Find yourself someone else to fix," he finished harshly, meeting Rick's started blue eyes.

Rick backed up a step. "Fix you? Daryl—"

"Done, Grimes. What parta 'done' is hard to comprehend? Need me to spell it for ya?" Daryl sneered condescendingly.

Rick's jaw clenched. "Fuck you, Dixon. Fine, you wanna be a prick? Whatever. I'm through." He turned and walked away, his long, lean legs carrying him farther from Daryl by the second.

Daryl inhaled sharply, and continued to his locker stoically.

He'd done the right thing. He had to believe that.

He had to.

Daryl went to see Merle after school. He dropped by Dale's to let him know that he could pick up any extra shift the man wanted, and asked if he could borrow his car. In the end, the old man let him pick up the weekend shifts, so he only had Monday and Tuesday to himself.

He preferred it that way.

He drove to the jail quickly, his mind on his father. He still hadn't seen him, since he'd walked from school straight to the garage. He wasn't looking forward to it. He was going to see his brother for advice about how to deal with him, since he'd been doing this shit for longer than Daryl had.

He also figured that Merle had heard about his being in the hospital, and figured it best to visit him, so his brother could see for himself he was still in one piece. He was gonna be pissed that Daryl hadn't called as it was.

He went through the routine of entering the building and sat at their usual table. The guards buzzed Merle in, and rather than the beaming smile that usually graced his big brother's face when he saw Daryl, he was met with a hard, searching gaze. His brother's eyes swept him from head to toe as Daryl stood to greet him, scrutinizing the way Daryl held his arms stiffly due to his ribs.

"Bad, huh?" Merle asked gruffly, placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder gently.

Daryl shrugged. "Not much worse 'an usual," he muttered.

Merle snorted. "I bet yer gonna get a hospital bill that'll say diff'rent," he said with a humorless chuckle. He sat down heavily, while Daryl gingerly lowered himself to the seat across from him.

"I's worried 'bout you, baby brother. Heard 'bout what happened, but I didn't believe it at first," Merle said, his eyes searching Daryl's face. Something was up here.

"Who'd you hear it from?" Daryl asked. "I know Martinez came to see you yesterday, was it him?"

Merle shook his head slowly, his head cocking to one side. "Nah… it weren't him. Was someone else."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Alright, well fuck all this cryptic shit. You gonna tell me or not?"

Merle rolled his shoulders, enjoying the sight of Daryl's frustration, of course. Fucking older brothers.

"Was this kid. Rick, think his name was. Rick Grimes."

Daryl froze, and a grin spread on Merle's face. "Grimes?"

Merle chuckled. "Guess I got the name right, huh?"

Daryl nodded, and his jaw clenched in anger. "Why'd he come to visit you? Just to tell you 'bout what the old man done?"

Merle shrugged. "Wanted me to talk you inta openin' up with them government folks. Seemed to think it'd be best for ya."

Daryl clenched and unclenched his fists rhythmically. Rick came here? Without telling him? What the fuck did he think he was doing, going behind his back, to his big brother for Christ's sake?

"Aw, now, come on, Darlena," Merle said mockingly. "Don't be mad at yer boyfried, he's just worried 'bout ya." He laughed outright at the glare Daryl shot him.

"He ain't my boyfriend, jackass. And he had no right comin' here. Tattlin' on me like some preschooler."

Merle's laughter died down, and he got a rare, contemplative look on his face. Daryl hadn't seen that expression on Merle's face in a while.

"I thought so, too, at first. But then I got another visitor," he said mysteriously.

Daryl sighed, annoyed. "Who, Merle? Spit it out."

"Name was Beth, I do believe." He whistled appreciatively. "When she tol' me her name, my mind was… otherwise occupied, you know?" He grinned lasciviously.

Daryl rolled his eyes again. Beth was here, too? What the hell?

"And what'd she want?"

"She… well, she tol' me somethin' and I think maybe you should consider it."

Daryl's brow furrowed. "What?"

Merle sighed heavily, truly serious for the first time since he sat down. "I love ya, baby brother, ya know I do, but… I failed ya in a lotta ways."

Daryl started to object, but Merle held up a hand to stop him.

"I know I protected you from the old bastard some, and I tried to do right by ya, get you what ya needed, but I… was wrapped up in a lotta my own shit, and I didn't do everythin' I could…" He scrubbed his hand over his face and scalp, struggling for the right words. "I coulda got ya out, if I'd tried. I coulda left with ya years ago. Might not o' given you yer childhood back, but I coulda saved you from this… from bein' alone in the house with him."

"Merle," Daryl began, confused. "What are you talkin' about? And what's this gotta do with Beth?"

Merle sighed again. "I'm sayin' that I didn't do everythin' I could, but I know how ya feel. Trust don't come easy to Dixons. Ya gotta earn it. So I got one question fer ya: did this Grimes kid earn it?"

Daryl shifted in his seat uncomfortably, his eyes on the table. Hesitantly, he nodded.

"Then ya gotta trust him. He wants ta help. Let him. And Beth, well… she tol' me a bit about her husband. He's like us, ya know. Grew up with abusive folks, raised his brothers himself. Now he's an ambulance chaser, but, hey, at least he can pay the rent and not get arrested fer it."

Daryl was so confused that his brain hurt. "What's this gotta go with me?"

"He had people, Daryl. He weren't alone, like you are."

He started to get angry. "What the hell are you on about, Merle? I ain't alone, I got you, don't I? And what's with you tellin' me to trust Rick, like you don't know where I'll end up? In one o' those homes, just like the Johnson kids from down the street! You remember them, they's taken away from their druggie, strung out parents? I saw 'em again a few months back. They said they'd take their useless folk over those places any day. Told me stories, Merle." He shook his head adamantly. "I'm only a couple months from turnin' eighteen. I can hold out 'til then."

Merle shook his head, an unidentifiable look on his face. "You won't, Daryl. You give this kid up, you lose the only thing in yer life that separates ya from where I am."

Daryl shook his head, uncomprehending.

"You think if I had any decent people in my life I'd be in here? Maybe I would, but maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I'da had the good sense to snatch up somethin' good when it's starin' me in the damn face. As far as I know, you've trusted two people your whole life, brother: me and that kid. Well, I'm not much help to ya in here. Without that kid, what's yer life gonna be like?"

Daryl shrugged. "Same as it was 'fore I met him." Empty. Lifeless.

Worthless.

"Listen to ol' Merle now, son. I'm older and wiser, and much better lookin' than you." Daryl rolled his eyes. Fucking asshole. "Those stories you heard from them kids 'bout those homes? Forget 'em. Those kids ain't you. You can handle anythin'. 'Cept bein' alone. That's a cold, short life waitin' to happen. You need people, Daryl. You been keepin' to yourself fer as long as I can remember, but it's time to stop. At least this once. You lose this kid, you let yourself turn into the old man, little by little."

Daryl sat back in his seat. "What the fuck? I ain't like him!"

Merle chuckled. "What, you think he was born evil? Nah, brother. Before he turned inta the bastard he is today, he was just like you and me. Little bit o' liquor, a lot more anger. And nobody in his life meant a damn to him. Not you. Not me. Not Ma." Merle leaned forward, and slammed his hand on the table emphatically. "This ain't about gettin' outta the house to get away from the old man! This is about breakin' the cycle."

Daryl realized that he was breathing harshly, and he clutched his ribs to ease the pain. He knew what Merle was saying. He did, but... was he right? Was Daryl slowly but surely turning into…his father?

There was no way he could be like him. He wouldn't beat his children, or drown himself in liquor. He wouldn't stand by and watch as his wife drowned in depression.

But who's to say you won't one day, a voice said in the back of his mind. What guarantee do you have that without anyone in your life—no friends, no family—no Merle or Rick- that you won't become a bitter shell of a man, inflicting pain on the innocent to forget about the empty place where your heart used to be?

God, he was being so dramatic. He was seventeen, not forty! He had plenty of time to make friends, or at least make sure he didn't turn into his old man.

The image of Rick, with his clear blue eyes, and his soft brown hair, filled his mind's eye. But when he was ready to find someone to trust, would Rick still be there?

No, that voice said. You pushed him away. Why would he wait around for you?

Daryl shook his head, clearing it. He realized Merle had been watching him as he worked through his thoughts.

"You there, yet, Darlena? You decided to listen to me?" Merle asked smugly.

Daryl flipped him the bird, and smirked. He sighed. "I dunno, Merle. I did somethin'… well, I guess it was pretty fuckin' stupid, but I told Rick…" He shook his head, eyes fixed on the table. "Let's just say he ain't lookin' for my friendship anymore."

Merle scoffed. "Trust me, son. That boy ain't goin' anywhere. You could shoot him and he'd still forgive ya."

"How the hell would you know?"

His smug look resurfacing, Merle smirked. "The way he talked 'bout ya. The dreamy look on his face when he thought 'bout yer perfect blue eyes-"

Daryl leaned forward and smacked Merle on the forehead. A guard near the table gave him a sharp look.

"Shut the fuck up, asswipe," Daryl said, laughing despite himself.

Merle rubbed his forehead, faking an affronted look. "What was that for?"

Daryl rolled his eyes. He was afraid they'd get stuck that way if he spent much more time with his brother.

"Get outta here, brother," Merle said. "Go make up with the kid."

Daryl sighed heavily. He'd try, at least. He got up to hug his brother goodbye, before walking back out to Dale's car, his mind still whirling.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Talk to the cops? Get his father locked up? Not that the bastard didn't deserve it.

Sighing, he figured the first step to getting Rick to forgive him was by showing him that he was serious about listening to him.

He drove to the police station.

He ended up being at the station a lot longer than he'd anticipated. By the time he'd given his statement, and gotten a promise from the cops that they'd have a warrant for his father's arrest by the following day, he was exhausted.

He got back into Dale's car, and when he switched it on, he checked the time. Just after ten.

Well, he figured there was no time like the present.

He drove to Rick's house, his body full of nervous energy. He had no idea what he was gonna say, or how Rick would even react to seeing him. What if he just slammed the door in his face?

Maybe it was Daryl's turn to fight for Rick. It had always been Rick trying to make their friendship work, and Daryl riding the coattails of his efforts. If he had to work for Rick's forgiveness, it was no less than he deserved.

He pulled up to the Grimes house and parked in the street in front. He stepped out of the car and walked to the door, his movements stiff. He hesitated a moment, taking a deep, fortifying breath.

He knocked on the door.

**I'm sorry this one is shorter, but I'll try to make up for it next chapter. I just really wanted the next part to be Rick's POV.** **Please review! I rewrote the whole chapter because I didn't like the way it was going, and I need to know if what I ended up doing was okay or not.** **Thanks for reading!**


	10. Told me I was beautiful

Chapter Ten—Told me I was beautiful

When Rick got home from school on Monday, he had so many emotions boiling in him that he didn't even know what he felt. His mom had worked the night shift Sunday, so she was home from work, and he saw her standing in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee, when he slammed the front door.

"Rick?" she asked, concern in her voice as she approached him. "What is it, darling? Did something happen in school?"

Rick shook his head. The reminder of school just made him see red. He started to pace around the living room, his hands clenching into fists.

Beth quietly sat down on the couch, waiting patiently for Rick to calm down enough to speak.

"He just… uh! He's so infuriating! All I try to do is help, and he just threw it in my face!" He sat down heavily, his breathing erratic. "Am I really that dispensable?" he asked, his voice becoming quiet.

Beth's face softened, and she moved closer to pull Rick into a hug. "Of course not, sweetheart. You need to take a step back, here. After everything that you and Daryl have gone through, do you really think he doesn't care about you anymore?"

Rick shrugged, leaning some of his weight on his mom's shoulder. "Dunno. All my other friends left, didn't they?"

He watched her frown at the despondency in his voice, and she hugged him tighter. "No, baby. They were never your friends. They didn't deserve you. Real friends don't leave you like that. Honestly, you're better off with enemies. At least you know were they stand."

Rick stood up abruptly. "Well, that's good, 'cause that's all I have left now," he bit out harshly.

"Stop it, Rick! You know that's not true. Daryl is going through somethin' that's hard for us to understand. All we can do is be there for him, and wait it out."

Rick scoffed. "It's hard to be there for him when he tells me to get lost." He shook his head sadly. "I dunno what to do, Mom. I tried to do the right thing, but maybe I pushed too hard." He winced. "I hate to see what he'll do to me when he finds out I went to his brother."

His mom smiled smugly. "I doubt he'll do anything. In fact, I have a feeling that when he talks to his brother again, he'll be in for a surprise."

Rick's eyes widened, and he sat down again. "What'd you do?"

Beth shrugged innocently. "Took a little page outta your book."

"You went to see him?" he asked, in awe.

Beth nodded, a grin spreading across her face. "I think what Merle Dixon needed was a little womanly influence. Took him a while to stop staring and start listening, but once he did, I think he got the message."

Rick shook his head. She never failed to amaze him. "So, you think it'll change Daryl's mind?"

Her smile faded a bit, and she opened her mouth to answer, seeming to choose her words carefully. "I think…. it'll be a start. Merle's the one person that Daryl's always trusted, and to have him encouraging Daryl to talk… it could change everything. Or it could just be a step in the right direction. We need to be prepared, either way."

Rick nodded, more subdued now. "I'm gonna head up and get started on my homework. Got a Bio test tomorrow."

Beth kissed his cheek, and smiled gently. "Alright, honey. I'll call you down when dinner's ready."

Rick went up to his room, and tried not to see Daryl on his bed, when they were up here watching movies. He tried not to look out the window, where he could always see Daryl working on the bike in the backyard.

Man, he was pathetic.

He pulled out his textbooks. Time to get something done.

The rest of the night passed quickly for Rick, and he went to bed early, looking forward to sleeping off his headache. Carl stopped him before he could go into his room, however.

"Hey, Rick?" he asked, his voice unusually soft.

Rick turned to look at him, and noticed that his little shoulders were hunched up a bit, and his eyes were downcast. He moved closer to his brother.

"Yeah? What's up?"

Carl shrugged, which was hard to do since his shoulders were already almost to his ears, and shifted uneasily. "Just wanted to see if you were alright," he said, so quietly Rick almost didn't hear.

Rick's brow furrowed. "I'm fine, Carl. Why d'you ask?"

Carl met his eyes, and Rick saw understanding in them. "Just know you were sad 'bout that Daryl guy. Know he got hurt, and you helped him. I just haven't seen you much since then, you know? I was at Mark's while y'all were at the hospital."

For the first time, Rick thought about what it must be like to know that his family was at the hospital, worrying over the welfare of someone they cared about, and to be unable to do anything to help. Ashamed of his self-centeredness, Rick moved forward and pulled Carl into a hug.

Carl pretended to struggle, but gave up far too easily to fool Rick. The top of his head came up to Rick's chin. "Man, you get taller everyday."

Carl giggled. "Maybe you just get shorter."

"Oi!" Rick looped his arm around Carl's neck, and rubbed his knuckles on Carl's head vigorously in retribution.

Carl struggled fruitlessly for a moment before Rick took pity on him and let him go. He couldn't help but laugh at Carl's disgruntled expression and his wild hair, which was sticking almost straight up.

Rick sobered as Carl tried to smooth down his hair. "I'm sorry, Carl. I know we were gone, and you were stuck at a friend's house unable to help. But everything's gonna be okay."

"Really?" Carl asked hopefully.

Rick nodded. And for the first time, he wondered if he believed his own words.

Just as he was dozing off, Rick was awoken by a light knock to his bedroom door. He sat up and turned on his bedside lamp, and called for the person to come in. The door opened, and Daryl came in.

He gasped, all too aware that he only wore his boxers, and pulled the comforter up to cover his body. Daryl hovered by the doorway, uncertainty written all over his face.

"Bet you're wonderin' what I'm doin' here," Daryl said softly. Rick shrugged.

He had no idea what to say.

Daryl shifted on his feet, reminding Rick of the way Carl had looked earlier, and gestured to Rick's desk chair. "D'you mind?"

Rick shook his head, and watched as Daryl dragged the seat closer to the bed and sat down. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, then bent them at the knees and leaned forward to rest his elbows on them. He seemed jittery, uncomfortable.

Maybe even nervous.

Rick cleared his throat. "So… what're you doin' here?"

Daryl kept his gaze on his hands in front of him while he answered. "Came here to ask fer your forgiveness."

Rick's eyes bugged out. He was sure he looked like a cartoon character, but that was not what he'd been expecting. He didn't know what he thought Daryl was doing here, but to apologize was the last thing he would've imagined.

"For…" he said.

Daryl met his gaze, annoyed. "You know. For what I said, what I done. You didn't deserve that, 'specially not from me. You've always done right by me, Rick. And I shouldn'ta thrown it back in your face."

Rick was flabbergasted. "Okay, well… apology accepted."

Daryl stood abruptly and took a step closer to the bed. "Just like that? You forgive me? What the hell Grimes, don't you have any pride?"

Rick's jaw clenched. "I thought you wanted me to forgive you. Why're you tryin' to piss me off again?"

Daryl seemed to deflate. "I'm not, I just… don't like to see you get walked all over, not even by me."

Rick smiled a little. "I'm not. I forgive you because that's what friends do when they fight. Forgive and try to forget."

Daryl was motionless for a moment. "Friends? We friends again?"

Rick chuckled. "We never stopped bein' friends, Daryl. You were just bein' an ass, and we fought. It's the way of the world."

Daryl laughed, and sat down on the bed facing Rick. He was a bit startled by the boy's sudden proximity, given his undressed state. Daryl sobered, and he looked at Rick, appearing almost bashful.

"What is it?" Rick asked, curious.

"I went to the cops. Told 'em 'bout my old man. They're arrestin' him tomorrow," Daryl said, his eyes full of apprehension and fear.

Rick inhaled sharply. He couldn't believe this. Daryl'd done it? He'd really talked?

"God, that was so brave, Daryl. I'm so glad you're not gonna be hurt anymore," Rick answered breathlessly. He moved slowly towards Daryl, not wanting to startle him, his arms outstretched. Daryl melted into his embrace, and rested his head on Rick's bare shoulder.

Rick lifted a hand and ran it through Daryl's hair. It was much softer than it looked.

Just like Daryl.

"Wanted to show you that I trust you," Daryl mumbled against his shoulder.

"What d'you mean?" Rick asked.

Daryl sat up a little, his face very near Rick's. He could feel the boy's breath on his lips.

"Just.. I didn't wanna talk 'cause I don't know what'll happen, where I'll go. And it was easier to deal with my father, 'cause at least I'm used to him," he whispered. "But I did it to show you that I trust you. That whatever happens, we'll figure it out, and still be friends." A stricken look passed over his face. "Won't we?"

To Rick, he sounded like a small child, afraid of being left alone. Perhaps that was a good analogy, because besides his brother, Rick doubted Daryl had anyone he could count on to stay.

"Forever, Daryl. We'll be friends for as long as you want me," Rick answered, giving him a reassuring smile. He brushed some hair back from Daryl's forehead, and pulled him gently back down to his shoulder.

"I gotta go," Daryl said after a few quiet minutes. He sat up, and ran a hand through his hair. "I borrowed Dale's car, and I never brought it back. He's probably gone, but I gotta get home, and we got that test tomorrow—"

"Shut up, Daryl," Rick interjected. "You're stayin' here." He pulled the comforter down on the other side of his bed.

Daryl sat back. "What?"

"We'll take the car back in the morning, and I'll go with you to get your stuff from your dad's house tomorrow after school if you want, but you're not stayin' in that house. Never again."

Daryl looked reluctantly impressed with this speech. "What makes you think you can tell me what to do, Grimes?"

"If you don't stay, then I'll go with you. I'll sleep on the floor of your bedroom if I have to. But I'm not leavin' you alone. You mean too much to me," he finished with a whisper.

Daryl's face softened. "Alright, then." He stood up and rounded the bed. He shucked off his boots, and jeans, leaving him in boxers and a shirt. Rick felt his mouth water, and forced himself to think of his grandma or something.

Daryl lay down beside him, and faced him in the bed. Rick lay back down, pulling the cover up to his shoulders. He wondered if he should put a shirt on, but figured it was too little, too late.

"Good night, Daryl," he whispered. He could just make out the stormy blue of the boy's eyes through the moonlight.

"Night, Rick."

The next morning, Rick woke to an empty bed. It took him a moment to remember why this should be odd, and when he did, he shot out of bed.

He pulled on some jeans and a shirt, since he had to get up for school anyway, grabbed his bookbag, and ran down the stairs. Before he could turn the corner into the kitchen, he heard voices and nearly slumped in relief when he recognized one of them as Daryl.

He walked into the breakfast nook to see his dad reading his usual morning paper, Carl enthusiastically eating a pile of pancakes, and his mom sipping a cup of coffee and talking to the person he'd been so anxious to see: Daryl. Smiling, he strode to the table. When Daryl saw him, he stood quickly and moved from his chair.

"Sorry," he muttered. If Rick didn't know any better, he would swear that was a blush stealing up Daryl's cheeks. "Took your seat."

Rick stared blankly at him for a moment before he realized Daryl meant to give his seat up to him. There were only four chairs to the table set, so someone would be left out.

Rick's grin widened. Who knew Daryl could be chivalrous?

"It's alright," he said. "I can grab a barstool and pull it over."

Daryl stood awkwardly, unsure.

"Sit, Daryl! I insist," he said, placing his barstool next to Daryl's vacant seat so he could be close to the boy. Daryl still hadn't sat down.

"Are you sure?" he muttered. "I can take the barstool…"

Rick sighed in mock exasperation. "You're our guest, Daryl. Sit down, please."

At last, Daryl sat in his seat and resumed eating his breakfast at a slow pace.

Rick looked up from watching the boy to see his mom observing him with a smirk on her face. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he blushed, red staining his ears. His dad and Carl continued ignoring all of them obliviously.

"So, Daryl, I meant to ask: did you sleep well?" Rick's mom asked innocently, and he was sure it was a blush staining Daryl's cheeks this time.

"Uh. Yeah," Daryl said.

"Mom," Rick warned. She raised another eyebrow at him, clearly surprised at his reprimanding her.

"Speaking of, Rick. Please don't have anyone overnight in your room without informing your father or me, alright?" she said sternly.

Rick blushed and looked down at his hands clasped on his knees. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry," he mumbled. Rick glanced at Daryl to see him furrowing his brows in confusion. Rick decided to get out of here before any awkward questions arose.

"Ready to head out?" he asked him. Daryl nodded, and stood from the table.

"Thanks fer breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes," he mumbled.

"Of course, sweetheart," Rick's mom said sweetly. "Anytime."

"See ya, son, Daryl. Come on, Carl, I'll drive you to school on the way to the office," his dad said. Carl nodded and ran to his room to grab his bookbag.

"Bye, Mom, Dad. Bye, Carl!" he yelled. He left the house with Daryl on his heels. "You still wanna drop the car off?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. Feel bad 'bout keepin' it so long."

Rick smiled at him. Daryl was kind of adorable when he looked contrite. Daryl shifted uncomfortably when he saw Rick watching him. "What?"

"Nothin'," Rick answered. "Let's go."

Rick climbed into his jeep, and Daryl into his boss's car, and they took off. Daryl ran into the garage after parking in front, and was inside for a few minutes before he jogged back outside. He got in the car, and at Rick's pointed look, rolled his eyes and buckled his seatbelt.

"Everything ok?" Rick asked as he pulled out onto the street.

"Yep," Daryl answered shortly. The rest of the drive was silent, and it wasn't until Rick was parking that Daryl spoke again. "What'd yer mom mean? Why's it a big deal that I slept in yer room?"

Rick could feel the red creeping up his neck and spreading to his ears. "Oh, that. Well…"

Daryl's eyebrows rose at Rick's reaction. He obviously hadn't expected him to be so embarrassed.

Rick sighed. After everything Daryl had done to prove that he trusted him, here Rick was hiding something from him. He was the biggest hypocrite, and he had to fix it. But not now. "There's a reason, and I'm gonna tell you. But not in the five minutes before the first bell rings. After school, we'll go to my house and we'll talk. That ok?"

Daryl nodded, concern etched on his face. "Sure, Rick. Whatever you want."

Rick grinned at him. "Ok. Let's go to class, then."

They got out of the car and walked into the school together, for the first time.

In Rick's final class of the day, Advanced Art, he was so nervous about his and Daryl's talk later that he couldn't pay attention. Luckily, the teacher hadn't realized it yet. But Rick's partner, Carol, had.

She put her hand gently on his knee to stop it from bouncing up and down. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

Rick looked at her and grimaced apologetically. "Nothin'. Just thinkin'."

Carol rolled her blue eyes, and Rick had to hold in a laugh at the sight of the proper, polite girl acting like a teenager for once. "Spill, Rick. Does this have to do with Daryl?"

"Yeah, but… I don't wanna talk about it."

Carol smiled mischievously. "Does he know you like him yet?" she asked suddenly.

Rick felt like he was choking on his own saliva. Well, now the teacher was paying attention to him. He raised a hand apologetically to Miss Adams, who continued with her lesson, and glared at Carol, who was covering her mouth to stop her giggles.

"What the hell?" he asked. Was he that obvious?

"Oh, please, Rick. Everyone in school sees the way you look at him." When she saw his stricken expression, she rushed to continue. "Not Daryl, of course," she said, laying a comforting hand on his arm. "He's completely oblivious. He won't know how you feel 'til you tell him, more than likely."

Rick cleared his throat awkwardly, debating whether to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. Carol tilted her head curiously, waiting.

"And how… that is, d'you think he'd be mad, or… will he hate me when he finds out?" Rick stuttered.

Carol's eyes widened and she squeezed his arm. "Oh, Rick, no. Daryl's not homophobic; trust me." She smiled and shook her head. "I keep forgettin' how new you are. Don't you worry too much. I can't tell you how he feels about you, 'cause Daryl's a closed book to all, but I can promise that he won't think less of you for likin' guys. Alright?"

Rick breathed a sigh of relief. He trusted that Carol was right, she'd known Daryl a lot longer, after all, but he was still nervous.

The bell rang for the end of school, and Rick and Carol stood to leave together. "Thanks, Carol. You made me feel a lot better."

She smiled genuinely, patting his shoulder. "Of course, Rick. I wish we knew each other better, honestly. I mean, we've talked a few times, but only about Daryl. Maybe the three of us can hang out sometime?" she asked hopefully.

Rick grinned. "I'd like that." And he really would. "How 'bout this weekend? I'm drivin' Daryl, so I'll ask him."

"Sure, sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Rick said, and walked out to the parking lot to his jeep, where Daryl was already waiting. He was leaning his body on the jeep, one shoulder propped on the doorframe of the passenger side, facing away from Rick. He admired his long legs, wrapped in denim, before announcing his presence.

"Ready?" Rick asked. Daryl turned and nodded, climbing into the passenger side and buckling his seatbelt without being asked.

Rick grinned. "You're learning."

Daryl snorted. "Just tryin' to save time. Arguin' would put us at the back o' the line tryin' to get outta this place."

Rick drove home in silence, unbroken by the boy beside him, his mind in turmoil despite Carol's reassurances. He didn't know yet how much he was going to tell him. Should he tell him how he feels about him?

He figured that would depend on how Daryl took the news that he was gay.

He led Daryl up to his room, and sat on the desk chair, gesturing for Daryl to take the bed. He wanted to give him space, just in case he became upset.

"So," he began rubbing his hands together nervously. Daryl leaned forward on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. He had his curious blue eyes locked on Rick's face, waiting patiently. "I guess I should start by sayin' that I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner, 'cause with everythin' that's happened, you had every right to know. You did so much to show me that you trust me, and I… I've been keepin' this from you."

Daryl's expression morphed to concern, and he shook his head. "Sometimes it's hard to tell people things. I understand. Take yer time."

Rick nodded gratefully, and took a deep breath. "You remember a few weeks ago, when I got… upset?" His eyes darted to the window, through which he would be able to see the pool if he were standing. He recalled the feeling of Daryl's arms around him, and smiled gently.

Daryl nodded to show he remembered.

"I mentioned that I was bullied, but… it was worse than that, really. Not worse than what you go through, but I was teased, and pushed around. I was jumped a few times, and I've had the broken bones to prove it." At that, he saw Daryl's hands clench into fists.

"The thing that came out about me?" He took another deep breath. "I'm gay, Daryl. The kids in my school… they found out. They weren't too happy about it, and people that used to be my friends… weren't anymore. They turned their backs on me, or joined in on harassing me. That's why we moved towns. Not because my dad got a new job. He looked for a new job so he could get me outta there," Rick finished, his eyes fixing on the ground.

He heard Daryl inhale sharply, but didn't look up. "Rick," he heard him say softly. Rick hesitated, then looked up, meeting Daryl's eyes. "I don't care that you're gay."

"Really?" Rick asked softly.

Daryl chuckled. "You really haven't lived here long. If you had, you'd know that I'm known for foolin' around with all different kinds of people," he said with a wicked smirk.

Rick's eyes widened comically. "Wha-? I mean, you're. Y-you like. What?" he stuttered.

Daryl chuckled at Rick's expression. "That's right, Grimes. I swing both ways."

Rick sat open-mouthed in shock. His expression became contemplative as he remembered an incident from the hospital. "Are you and, uh, what-his-name, uh, Martinez? Are you two…?"

Daryl shook his head. "We, you know… used to fool around, but… not for a while."

Rick was flabbergasted. "I can't believe I didn't know this."

Daryl shrugged. "So you don't listen to gossip at school. It's not like I told you. How were you supposed to know?"

"I guess you're right, I just…" Rick trailed off.

"Hey, I didn't know you were gay, so we're even." Daryl said, his voice full of humor. Taking Rick by surprise, Daryl grabbed his arm and pulled so that he fell onto the bed next to Daryl.

"Oof," he let out as his stomach hit the mattress. He flipped onto his back to see Daryl's smirking face looking down at him. Sitting up, he bumped shoulders with the boy gently, always aware of his injuries.

"Come on, let's go get somethin' to eat. I'm starvin'," Rick said. Daryl followed him out of the room, a grin spread across his face.

Daryl stayed until after dinner that night, at Rick's insistence, and the whole family sat in the den after dessert, watching a movie.

At one point during the film, Rick's dad got up to get a soda, and Rick took the opportunity to follow him into the kitchen.

"Hey, Dad," he said. His dad turned around, mildly surprised to see Rick behind him.

"Hey, son. What's goin' on?"

Rick cleared his throat. "So, I was wondering… is there any way that we can let Daryl stay here? You know, instead of goin' to a boy's home?"

Rick's dad raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, obviously thinking. "Well," he said slowly, weighing his words, "I'm not sure we can convince a court to let him stay here, but we can try to make them understand that a boy's home isn't the best place for him. Have you talked to Daryl about this?"

Rick deflated a bit, and shook his head. "I just know how worried he is about it, Dad. He's really afraid to go to one of those places. He feels safe here, though."

His dad nodded. "Well, he can definitely stay here tonight—in the guest room, of course," he shot Rick a wry smile, and Rick blushed. "We can talk to him after the movie, see what he wants to do. Sound good?"

Rick smiled, relieved that his dad was at least open to the idea of Daryl staying here. "Yeah, sounds good."

Having grabbed his soda, his dad slapped him on the shoulder and they walked together back out into the family room. Rick retook his seat between Daryl and Carl on the couch, and his dad sat on the loveseat by his mom.

After the movie ended, Rick's mom announced that it was Carl's bedtime, and sent him to get ready. She took the empty glasses and plates into the kitchen to start cleaning up, and his dad took Carl's vacated seat. Rick took his cue to start the conversation.

"Daryl, can we talk to you?" he asked. Daryl looked from Rick to his dad, and worry flashed in his eyes before he masked it. He shrugged, seemingly nonchalant.

"Son, we know that you've been concerned about what's gonna happen now, after talkin' to the police," his dad said. "Child Protective Services is probably gonna come interview you and try to put you somewhere safe soon. I'm actually surprised they haven't done it yet, but that's probably because they don't know where you are. I expect they'll track you down at school tomorrow, though."

As his dad spoke, Rick could see the fear growing in Daryl's eyes, and the boy looked quickly at his hands, which were folded on his lap. They flexed into fists as his anxiety rose.

His dad's voice softened. "Now, I'm not gonna let them put you in some home. Rick would kill me if that happened." Daryl's gaze darted up to catch the reassuring smile on Rick's and his dad's face.

"What d'ya mean?" he muttered.

"I mean that, as your lawyer, I will get them to let you stay here, with us," he explained. "I won't let you get lost in the system. I know you only have a few months until you turn eighteen, but bein' legal doesn't mean you're ready to be on your own. You'll still be in high school when they kick you out, and that's no good."

"My lawyer?" Daryl asked, perplexed.

"Of course. You finish fixin' up my bike in payment, and I'll represent you for as long as it takes," he said, smiling.

Daryl met Rick's gaze, trying to gauge how he felt about this, and Rick grinned widely. "I told you not to worry, Daryl."

Daryl nodded, then smiled gently, daring to hope.

"Alright," his dad said. "Let's call it a night, then. "I'll start gettin' your case together tomorrow."

Daryl nodded, and stood up. "Guess I should go home now, then. It's late."

Rick shook his head. "Oh, no. What'd I tell you? You go, I go. You're stayin' here."

Daryl's eyebrows furrowed. "But yer mom said…"

"We have a guest bedroom that you're more than welcome to use, Daryl," Rick's dad interjected.

"Come on, I'll show you," Rick said. He grabbed Daryl's hand and pulled gently. Daryl stood, nodded to Rick's dad in thanks, and followed Rick up the stairs.

"Thanks, Dad!" Rick yelled behind him. His dad waved, and Rick saw him head into the kitchen, presumably to talk to his mom.

"You can borrow some of my pajamas again," Rick said, leading him into his bedroom. He turned to look at Daryl, and saw that the boy had stopped in the middle of the room, his face angled towards the floor, his bangs hiding his expression from Rick.

"Daryl?" he asked softly, moving slowly over to him.

Daryl shook his head, face still angled away.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, frightened. When he didn't receive a response, he placed his hand under Daryl's chin and lifted until he could see the boy's expression. When Rick saw Daryl's sea-blue eyes, he could feel the emotions rolling off of him. Sadness. Hope. Longing.

"You ok?" he whispered.

Daryl nodded, Rick's hand still holding his chin. "Fine," he croaked out. "Just never had… you know, someone care enough to do this. 'Cept Merle, but… he never… he never made it stop. He tried, but he just… couldn't. And now you…"

He tried to drop his chin again, but Rick wouldn't let him. He moved closer, and expected Daryl to back away at his proximity, but he held still. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you anymore. You can trust me. Never again."

Daryl nodded, and his eyes darted from Rick's eyes to his lips and back again. Rick inhaled sharply, and licked his lips subconsciously. He watched as Daryl followed the movement.

"Daryl, I…"

Daryl cut him off with a kiss.


	11. Kissed me 'til the morning light

**This is the last regular chapter. Just an epilogue to go!**

Chapter Eleven— Kissed me 'til the morning light

Rick's lips were soft and hesitant as Daryl's lips touched them. Butterflies danced in his stomach, wreaking havoc on his nerves, as Rick slowly moved his lips.

Daryl gasped at the sensation, and moved forward slightly to deepen the kiss. It was sweet, and slow, and the best thing he could ever remember feeling.

Rick pulled back, and smiled at him, his nervousness obvious by the quiver at the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips, and Daryl's eyes followed the movement.

"Um, sorry, I just—" Rick started to say. Daryl cut him off by shaking his head.

"No apologies," he said gruffly. He looked from Rick's eyes to his lips again, and he watched as red spread across Rick's skin. He could get used to being the reason for that.

Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a kiss like this. Like it was a moment to cherish, not a preamble to something more. He didn't think he'd ever had that, in fact.

It was nice.

For the second time in the short time since he'd known him, Daryl found himself with an armful of Rick, though this time the attack was much gentler, in deference to Daryl's ribs.

Still, he winced at the dull pain, but raised his arms to wrap around Rick's back and lowered his head to the boy's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Daryl. Thank you for trusting us," Rick whispered.

"I don't," Daryl muttered.

Rick stiffened, and pulled back to see Daryl's face.

Daryl smiled softly, just a slight upturn of his lips. "I trust you."

Rick's face brightened, and he started to say something, but Daryl cut him off again, by pressing their lips together for a second time.

This kiss was just as sweet as the first, but not as hesitant. Daryl pulled the other boy in as close as he could and threaded the fingers on one hand through Rick's silky brown hair. Their bodies met, knees to knees, hips to hips, and Daryl could feel Rick's hardness pressing onto his hipbone.

Rick let out a low groan at the feeling, which caused Daryl's cock to jump in interest. He deepened the kiss, grasping the back of Rick's shirt, and Rick wound his arms over Daryl's shoulders, still being gentle.

Daryl would've been amazed that Rick could still think clearly enough to be easy with him, given his injuries, but realized that that was just Rick. He was always thinking of other people, even at the expense of himself.

Daryl was surprised, however, when he felt Rick's slick, hesitant tongue touch his lips, seeking entrance. He opened his mouth readily, and Rick's tongue delved in, tasting Daryl, and he groaned into his mouth.

Rick tasted like the cake they'd eaten for dessert.

Daryl loved cake.

He massaged Rick's scalp with his fingers one last time before pulling away from the kiss. He was entranced by Rick's just-kissed look: pinky, puffy lips, and tousled hair. They were both breathing heavily, and were still leaning into each other. Neither backed away.

"What are we doin'?" Rick asked breathily. At that, Daryl did back away. Did Rick not want to do this?

When he felt Daryl pull back, Rick huffed impatiently and, grasping his forearms, gently tugged him forward, back where he was. "Stop that. I've been wantin' to do that since I lied for you to Mr. Walsh. I'm not unsure about that. I'm askin'… we've come to be such good friends." He took an unsteady breath. "You're my best friend."

Daryl's eyes met the clear blue of Rick's, and he smiled reassuringly. Rick was so nervous, but also so sure of himself. It was an intoxicating mix, and at last, Daryl felt like it was too much work trying to make himself stay away. "So what're you askin'?" he said hoarsely.

Rick bit his lip, and Daryl reached forward to free it from the abuse. Rick smiled. "Are we still friends, but just… screwin' around? Or… are we…?"

Daryl shrugged awkwardly.

"Course, we're friends, Grimes. Dunno if we'll be somethin' else, but I'm sick and tired of tryin' to stay away from you. It never works, and I'm just miserable, watchin' you and not touchin'." He smirked. "I like touchin'," he said, rubbing his hand up and down Rick's back.

Daryl took a fortifying breath, and slowly reached a hand up to brush some of Rick's hair back from his forehead. His hand lingered longer than necessary before he dropped it. "I never… you know, did more than fuck around. Don't really know how to do more. Figure we'd just be friends, and take it from there… but if you want somethin' else, I'm willin' to try."

Rick's smile was the gentlest Daryl had ever seen it. He ran his fingers down Daryl's cheek and jaw, stroking lovingly. "This is new to me, too. We'll figure it out together, alright?"

Daryl nodded. "We done talkin' now?"

He cut off Rick's laugh with another kiss.

Eventually, Rick's mom came up to check on them, and Daryl had to go to the guestroom. Rick shot him a sheepish grin as Daryl left his bedroom, following Beth down the hall. He could still see the pink flushing Rick's cheeks if he closed his eyes.

As he went to sleep that night, Daryl decided that he was gonna do whatever it took to keep Rick in his life. He'd never felt about anyone the way he felt about Rick. That scared the shit out of him, because it gave Rick a lot of power over him, whether the boy knew it or not.

But Daryl realized that if there was anyone in his life that he trusted with that power, it was Rick. The boy had fought tooth and nail to keep Daryl in his life, and he was loyal throughout the struggle. He never gave up on Daryl, and he was the strongest person Daryl knew, including Merle.

There was also something almost vulnerable about him, like one harsh word could knock him down. Daryl knew this wasn't true, that it was a deception created to make people underestimate him, but it also made a visceral part of Daryl want to protect Rick at all costs. The thought of those kids at his old school pushing and beating Rick…

Daryl forced himself to remain calm. He didn't even know the name of Rick's old town, much less the name of the assholes that pretended to be his friends then turned on him. He'd get the rest of the story, though, and when he did…

Daryl smiled into his pillow as he thought of the retribution coming their way.

After breakfast the next morning—which consisted of Rick's parents shooting covert glances at each other, which Rick furrowed his brow at and tried to decipher, while Carl obliviously dug into his cereal- Daryl rode in Rick's jeep to school, preoccupied by Rick's silence.

As Rick parked, Daryl placed a hand on Rick's knee to get his attention. He was surprised when the boy jumped. He was really wrapped up in his thoughts.

Rick's gaze darted from the hand on his knee to Daryl's face, and his face crumpled in guilt. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just so distracted." He grasped Daryl's hand with his own and squeezed.

Daryl shook his head, almost amused. "I could tell that on my own. Was wonderin' if you wanted to talk about it."

Rick smiled, and shook his head, his bottom lip between his teeth. Daryl worked his hand out from under Rick's and reached forward to tug the lip loose. Rick's pretty lips shouldn't suffer such abuse, in his opinion.

As his finger touched Rick's lip, the boy kissed the tip of it and grinned wickedly when Daryl jumped. Then he took Daryl completely by surprise when he leaned forward and captured his mouth in a scorching kiss.

This kiss had a heat to it that wasn't there in the ones before. Daryl could feel his limbs burning from the pleasure of having Rick's tongue in his mouth, his hands on Daryl's face and running back through his hair. Daryl reached out and grasped what he could, which ended up being Rick's shirt, and held on tight for the ride.

Rick smiled into his mouth, and softened the kiss. He rubbed his swollen lips against Daryl's one last time, and slowly pulled away. Daryl's eyes were wide. "What was that for?" he murmured.

Rick grinned. "Just for being your own gorgeous self."

Daryl fought the blush that wanted to creep up his neck, but was unsuccessful. He watched Rick's expression change to delight as he noticed, and Daryl flexed his fingers in Rick's shirt as the boy reached forward to caress his neck.

"Beautiful," Rick said under his breath, and Daryl shook his head, gathering his wits and pulling his hands free of the other boy's shirt. He reached for the door.

"Let's go, Grimes," he muttered.

Rick followed him up to the school entrance, their hands brushing as they walked. Neither had quite worked up the courage to grasp the other's hand, but Daryl figured it would happen when Rick was ready. Despite the shit he had to put up with at school, Daryl rarely had to defend himself for liking guys. Most people just ignored it.

But Rick had been through hell, and Daryl wasn't gonna push him. They'd take this at Rick's pace.

"Oh!" Rick said suddenly. "I completely forgot to ask you. Do you wanna go out with Carol this weekend?"

Daryl's forehead creased in confusion. "Like, me? Or…"

Rick's expression was enough to make him laugh, he looked so shocked. "No! No way, not like that! Like I'd ever want you to go out with…" He trailed off, gathered himself, and started again. "What I meant to say was, do you want to go meet Carol with me? We can all catch a movie or something?"

Daryl smiled at him warmly. He didn't know why his mind had automatically jumped where it had, but obviously Rick didn't want him with anyone else.

He was fine with that. And he found that he felt the same way.

"I gotta work, but I can take off early, say 'round seven. That work?"

Rick grinned. "Sounds great."

They went separate ways to gather their books and met back up in English, taking seats in the back together. The same happened in Bio, and Daryl noticed that his chest felt warm at the return of this ritual.

It was nice having Rick next to him again.

With about ten minutes left of Bio to go, Daryl was roused out of his lecture-induced stupor when a student entered the classroom and walked to Walsh's desk. Walsh nodded, and looked up, right at Daryl.

"Mr. Dixon, you're wanted in the office. Take your things with you, I doubt you'll be back before the end of class," he said. Daryl looked at Rick, whose face was etched in concern. He'd figured this was coming.

He gathered his things and followed the kid out into the hallway. They walked to the office in tandem, and the kid took his place behind the administration desk. He probably helped out in the office instead of having a study period.

The door to the Principal's office opened, and Mr. Greene walked out, joined by the lady who'd been bothering Daryl so much. What was her name? Mendez? Morales?

"Mr. Dixon," Mr. Greene said. "Please, come in, Ms. Morales has a few things she wants to discuss with you."

Daryl began walking towards the office, but was startled to a halt when Rick came bolting around the corner into the room.

"Rick?" he asked, perplexed.

"My dad's on his way," he replied. Looking up to the principal and Morales, Rick continued, his voice polite and professional. "Daryl's lawyer will be joining him shortly. I think it best we wait until he arrives."

Morales's eyebrows shot up, and Mr. Greene smirked, but both nodded, and disappeared into his office, leaving the door open.

Daryl walked over to Rick. "What're you doin' here?" He grinned. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but… don't ya have class?"

Rick moved closer to Daryl, and placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "This is more important. Couldn't let you go in there without my Dad."

Daryl nodded, and stepped into Rick's space. He knew the boy probably wasn't comfortable with too much public affection—and in all honesty, he was never one much for it, either—so he simply lowered his forehead to Rick's shoulder gratefully. Rick's hand quickly swept through Daryl's hair before both boys stepped back. They continued shooting each other furtive looks until Mr. Grimes walked in the room.

"Rick, Daryl," he said quickly. "Alright, son," he said to Daryl. "Now, don't worry. I've got this. They're gonna ask you some questions, and I want you to answer honestly, but any legal stuff, leave it to me."

Daryl's eyes widened. "I wasn't plannin' on jumpin' in on legal stuff, Mr. Grimes."

Rick's dad gave him an amused smile and led the way into Mr. Greene's office. Daryl turned to see Rick's smiling face once more before following him in.

The next hour was a bit of a blur.

Everyone seemed to get along, and there wasn't arguing per say, but there was a lot of legal jargon that Daryl wasn't interested in following. When Morales asked him what it was like at home, he told her honestly that it was hell.

When she asked him what he wanted to happen now, he told her he wanted to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. Morales looked to Mr. Grimes in surprise, and the man took over from there.

Towards the end of the meeting, Daryl had zoned out again, and was roused back to the present by Mr. Grimes, who was saying his name. "Daryl, your father was arrested yesterday. When it comes time, will you testify about his treatment towards you? All we have are photos from the night you were taken to the hospital, and your say-so about what's been happening. I'm afraid that the case rests on you, son. I'm sorry."

Daryl nodded, having already figured this out. That was one reason he was so reluctant to talk, to be honest. It was one thing to tell the cops and have to live somewhere new, to have everything familiar taken away.

It was something else entirely to have to sit in front of the old bastard and tell a roomful of people what he'd done. Daryl took a deep breath, and met Mr. Grimes's eyes. "Yes, sir. I can do it."

Mr. Grimes smiled, and turned back to Morales. "So we're all in agreement, then? Daryl lives with me and my family until he graduates from high school?"

Morales and Mr. Greene both smiled, to Daryl's surprise, and nodded. He'd never dreamed it would be this easy.

Or maybe Rick's dad was just that good. Must be where the kid got it from.

Though his mother was a force to reckon with herself.

Daryl, Mr. Grimes, and Morales left the room together, and Rick rose from his seat in the front office, where he'd obviously been waiting. Daryl shot him a reassuring smile, and Rick practically sagged in relief.

Mr. Grimes walked to his son and patted his shoulder. "It's all worked out, son. Come home after school, and we'll all go over to get Daryl's stuff." He looked to Daryl. "If that's alright with you?"

Daryl nodded silently, and Mr. Grimes grinned at him. He said his goodbyes, and walked Morales out of the school.

Daryl and Rick couldn't wait until they were completely alone, so they embraced right there in the office. Daryl already felt like he was home.

The next few days were a whirlwind. Daryl went with Rick and Mr. Grimes to his old house to gather his possessions, and then he moved into the guest bedroom. There were only a few days left in school before Thanksgiving break, so Daryl and Rick were studying for midterms and didn't have much time for relaxing.

Daryl kept working at the garage, though at Dale's insistence, he stopped working weekends. He had to admit he liked spending those with Rick, so he wasn't too upset about it. It also meant that he was free to meet Rick and Carol earlier in the day on Saturday.

The three of them made a day of it, paying for one movie, and sneaking into others until the theater closed. Daryl hadn't had so much fun in a while.

At one point during their third movie, Rick got up to get some snacks, and Carol moved into the vacant seat beside Daryl. He looked over at her, eyebrows raised.

"You really like him." It was a statement, not a question, so Daryl stayed quiet. Carol smiled broadly. "I've never seen you so carefree. I'm so happy for you, Daryl."

He couldn't help but return her smile, and he ducked his head bashfully. Carol had always been kind to him, where others would have brushed him off as a waste of time. He knew he could be brash, and even hurtful. He was grateful she'd seen through it, though.

Carol grasped his hand and squeezed it briefly, and he found that he didn't mind it as much as he would've before Rick. By the time the other boy returned, they were chatting amiably, and they all settled in to watch the next movie.

The closer to the holidays it got, however, the more weighed down Daryl felt.

Thanksgiving morning found Daryl sitting in the room that he was still trying to get used to calling his own. He was melancholy, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. He didn't hear the footsteps outside the door, but he looked up when he heard someone tap the doorframe.

Rick stood there, dressed in jeans and a black button-down shirt. His black boots thumped heavily as he crossed the room to sit next to Daryl on the bed.

"You're not dressed," he observed, his voice soft. "Everythin' alright?"

Daryl shrugged, and immediately felt guilty. Rick deserved better than a brush off. He just didn't know what to say.

"It's just… I never had a holiday without Merle, ya know?" Daryl sighed self-deprecatingly. "I mean, it was never real special, but it was me and him, and… I miss him, is all."

Rick's face clouded over with sadness, and he wrapped an arm around Daryl's shoulders. Daryl thought about resisting, but what was the point? This was exactly where he wanted to be.

Daryl rested his head on Rick's shoulder, and sighed when the boy's hand came up to massage his scalp.

"You know I'd do anythin' for you, right?" Rick asked softly. Yes, he knew that. Despite the voices in his head telling him he wasn't worth a damn, Rick's patience had won out.

He nodded against Rick's shoulder.

"So, what d'you want to do? What'll make you feel better?" Rick pressed gently. Daryl already knew the answer to that, but wasn't sure how the other boy would feel about it.

"I wanna visit him. And I want you to come with me."

Rick's hand never faltered as it ran through Daryl's hair, nor did his body tense. "Alright," he answered simply.

Daryl sat up, his astonished gaze meeting Rick's calm one. "Really? You don't mind?"

Rick smiled. "'Course not. Don't you know what you mean to me, Daryl? And Merle's your family. You love him, so he's important to me, too."

Daryl nodded, a little bit in awe of the boy in front of him. "So, can we go see him after visitin' your grandparents?"

Rick grinned widely. "Of course. Mom never wants to stay for long, so we'll definitely make visiting hours."

Daryl returned the grin, and leaned in to give Rick a quick peck on the lips. It still never failed to bring a faint blush to the other boy's skin.

Daryl stroked the side of Rick's face lovingly, admiring the pink in his cheeks. "Yer so fuckin' gorgeous, you know that, Grimes?" Daryl muttered.

Rick blushed even deeper, and leaned his face into Daryl's touch. "And you're amazin'," he mumbled into Daryl's palm. "Everythin' you've been through, and you're still so damn strong. And kind."

Daryl shook his head. "Think ya got that backwards."

Rick smiled at him warmly. "We'll agree to disagree, then." Daryl nodded, okay with that. Rick stood from the bed and walked to the door. "Get dressed, I'll see you downstairs."

"Ok, give me five," Daryl said, and quickly dug into his closet. He didn't have too many nice clothes, or any at all really, except for a pair of black jeans and a blue button-down shirt. It would have to do.

He pulled his boots on over his jeans, and jogged downstairs, where the Grimes family was waiting. He winced when he realized he was the last one ready, and he ran his hand over the back of his head, mussing up his hair.

"Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes. Sorry, Carl. Didn't mean to keep ya," he said.

Beth smiled at him, and rubbed his arm with her hand distractedly. "No worries, sweetheart, we just finished getting ready ourselves."

Daryl followed them out the door, and they all piled into Mr. Grimes's sedan. Rick sat between Daryl and Carl in the backseat. They were all weighed down with food, and by the time they arrived at Rick's grandparent's house, Daryl's leg was burning from the turkey on his lap.

Lunch was fantastic. It was easily the best Thanksgiving meal Daryl could remember, and he made sure to take Beth aside later and tell her.

That was the first time she hugged him. To his surprise, he enjoyed it.

When they all got back home, Beth handed Daryl a Tupperware container full of leftovers and winked at him before heading inside. Daryl blinked at her, and climbed into Rick's jeep.

"You tell her we were goin' to visit Merle?" Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head. "Told her we were goin' out for a bit, but not where. Why?"

Daryl looked down at the food in his lap. "Huh."

Mother's intuition, was his guess.

Rick and Daryl sat down in the waiting area, and looked up when they heard someone being buzzed in. Merle and Daryl both grinned broadly when they saw each other, and Daryl stood to hug his brother.

Rick stood next to Daryl, and offered his hand when the brothers separated. Merle studied the proffered hand seriously before grinning and pulling Rick into a bone-crushing hug. Daryl was impressed that he didn't make any pained noises. Looking like a wimp in front of Merle was not the way to win him over.

"Whatch brought me, baby brother?" Merle asked as he sat down. He pulled the Tupperware container closer, and opened it. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes in reverence. "Oh, man, I musta been a good boy this year. No wait, tha's Christmas. What I done to deserve this?"

Daryl shrugged sheepishly. "Weren't my idea. 's from Beth."

Merle's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but a stern look from Daryl made it snap back shut. Merle looked at Rick and cleared his throat. "Nice lady, Beth. You tell 'er thanks from me, y'here?"

Daryl nodded. "No problem. You remember Rick, right?"

Merle graced Rick with another grin. "Sure I do! Yer boyfriend, right?"

To Daryl embarrassment, both he and Rick averted their eyes at this. He knew Rick would be bright red by now, and he could feel his own blush creeping up his neck.

"What?" Merle asked, nonplussed. "Oh! Really? Well, look at tha', ol' Merle called it like it was."

Daryl shot him a glare, whereas Rick just looked confused.

"Aw, come on now, brother," Merle said, more quietly. "I always knew you were… like that. You think I care? I figure, ya been through enough shit, you deserve to get laid whenever and wherever ya can."

Daryl was shocked. He couldn't think of anything to say to that. He met Rick's wide eyes, and they both looked at Merle.

"You serious, Merle? Yer fine with it?" Daryl asked.

Merle nodded seriously. "You betcha, Darlena." His face screwed up as a thought occurred to him, "I get out, though, I don't wanna see any of that shit. Gives me the heebie jeeies," Merle added, shuddering dramatically, and Daryl laughed. There was the Merle he knew.

After chatting a while longer, they said their goodbyes, and Daryl and Rick walked out to the parking lot. Daryl was deep in thought, and he didn't even realize they'd walked so far until he reached the jeep.

"You're awfully quiet," Rick said softly. Daryl nodded. He stepped closer to Rick and pulled the boy into his body, wrapping his arms around Rick's waist.

"Thanks, Rick. Fer… everythin'." He felt Rick smile against his throat.

"No need to thank me for anythin', Daryl. You helped me, too."

Daryl pulled back at that, surprised. He raised an eyebrow silently.

"You taught me to trust again," Rick said. "After what those people did at my last school, I… kinda closed myself off. I figured I'd get more of the same here, but then, on my first day, somethin' wonderful and unexpected happened."

Daryl smirked. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Rick's face scrunched up in thought. "I got Mr. Walsh as a teacher. He's been such an inspiration, and—"

He was cut off as Daryl took advantage of his proximity and attacked him. With tickling.

Rick giggled, and struggled, and tried to wriggle his way out of Daryl's grasp. When he could barely breathe, he begged. At last, Daryl let him go, grinning broadly.

"That'll teach ya to like Walsh," he said, his eyes alight with humor.

Rick moved quickly, much more swiftly than Daryl expected, and wrapped his arms around Daryl's neck. He expected retribution, but what he got instead was a gentle, deep kiss.

And words whispered softly against his lips. "I love you, Daryl."

He smiled, and kissed him back.

**Thank you so much to everyone who read this story, and a special thanks to all the people who let me know what they think of this story.** **The epi will be up shortly!**


	12. I loved you first

**Last chapter! I can't believe I finished a story!** **Oh, and there's smut in this one :)** *** I own nothing**

Epilogue—I loved you first

Rick stepped through the door, relieved to be off work. He and Daryl had both wanted to take the day off, but it just wasn't feasible since they've been saving up to buy a house. Rick grinned to himself at the thought of finally owning a house, and no longer renting this small apartment.

Since Rick was the early riser, as his job required, Daryl had gone shopping for everything before going into the garage. Rick stepped into the kitchen, taking off his gun belt along the way and laying it on the table. He opened the fridge, and found the steaks that Daryl loved, as well as the vegetables that Rick forced him to eat. He smiled softly.

He was gonna make sure tonight was perfect.

Rick stripped off his Deputy uniform and threw it in the laundry room to wash later. He got out all the ingredients he'd need to cook the steaks, mashed potatoes, and sautéed vegetables, as well as the stuff for the German chocolate cake that was a favorite of both of theirs. He switched on the radio for some background noise, and got to work.

He hummed along with the song that was playing, thinking about the first time he'd cooked dinner for Daryl. It was also the first time they'd… well. It was Rick's first time.

It was the summer after they first became a couple, and Rick's parents had driven up to the outskirts of Atlanta to drop Carl off at camp. Because they had some family up there, they decided to spend the night.

So Daryl and Rick had the house to themselves.

Daryl hadn't any idea of what Rick was planning, but he'd been hoping that Rick would want to soon. He wasn't shy of asking Rick, though he never pressured. Mostly, when Rick indicated that he wasn't ready for… _everything_… he'd just smile softly and show Rick what he was missing. Usually with his hands, but sometimes with his mouth.

Daryl had work that day, so he came home sweaty and covered in grease, a big smile on his face when he smelled the chicken in the oven. "Hey, Rick. You makin' dinner?"

Rick returned the smile and nodded. "Yep. Go wash up, it'll be ready soon."

Daryl stalked closer, and Rick's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Sure thing, boss. Jus' gotta do one thing first."

Rick took a small step backward from his filthy boyfriend. "What's that?"

Daryl pounced on him, and picked him up, making sure to smear as much grease as possible onto Rick's clothes and skin. Rick yelled, and squirmed, but he didn't get free until Daryl was laughing too hard to maintain his grip.

"Daryl!" he whined. "Now I'm all dirty!"

Daryl's eyebrow cocked in interest, and a suggestive grin spread across his face. "Well," he said teasingly. "You could always join me in the shower."

Rick kept his expression blank, then nodded solemnly. "Okay." He reached down and stripped off his shirt, then moved to unbutton his pants.

Daryl's smile fell and his eyes grew large. "Wait- what?"

Rick smiled. "I said okay, Daryl. I'm gonna turn the oven off, and I'm gonna join you in the shower. And then, when we're both clean… I'm gonna get us dirty again." He blushed at his words, uncomfortable with speaking about sex still. But he wanted Daryl to know that he was ready. He reached over and turned the oven off.

If it was possible, Daryl's eyes got even bigger, and he stepped closer to Rick, placing a hand on top of his where it rested on the button of his pants.

"Are- are ya serious?" he asked gruffly, his eyes focused on Rick's face. He lifted his other hand and stroked Rick's face gently, his expression so tender that Rick felt his heart melt.

He nodded, more sure now than ever. "Yeah, Daryl. I wanna do this with you." To prove his point, he pulled Daryl closer by his belt loops and kissed him deeply. Daryl reciprocated, pushing Rick up against the counter and sliding a leg between Rick's.

Rick grasped the hem of Daryl's shirt and pulled it off, then unbuttoned his pants. They broke the kiss, and just looked at one another for a moment, breathing heavily into each other's mouths. Then Daryl picked Rick up and tossed him over his shoulder, and proceeded to run up the stairs with him, Rick yelling all the way to _let him down, dammit._

When Daryl reached the bathroom, he let Rick down, and before Rick could bitch him out, he pressed him up hard against the wall, and kissed him, grinding their hips together. Rick moaned into his mouth, and Daryl grabbed Rick's pants with both hands and shoved them down past his hips. Rick helped kick them off, and proceeded to do the same with Daryl.

They'd seen each other naked before, but it felt different this time. They broke their kiss and Daryl stroked every bit of Rick's skin he could reach. He leaned forward and placed a single, reverent kiss on Rick's shoulder, and Rick shivered.

Daryl stepped back long enough to turn the shower on, and then pulled Rick in with him to step under the spray. They soaped and rinsed each other off gently, taking their time. Rick explored every inch of Daryl's skin except for the one place he knew Daryl wanted his hands the most, and grinned as Daryl groaned in frustration.

Payback was a bitch, though, and Daryl gave his cock only a quick swipe before moving on to much less sensitive parts of Rick's body, and only chuckled when Rick pouted.

Daryl turned the water off when they were both clean, and grabbed a towel to dry Rick off, but the other boy shook his head. He wanted to feel Daryl's skin, wet and fresh from the shower, and if he was being honest, he just didn't want to wait any longer.

His erection jutting out from his body, Rick grabbed Daryl's hand and pulled him into his bedroom, shutting the door out of habit. Daryl stood, naked and aroused, in the center of his room, his eyes following Rick's every movement.

Rick moved to the bed, and turned his gaze to the floor, suddenly nervous.

"Hey, now," Daryl said softly, moving forward to grasp Rick's chin and make him meet his eyes. "We don't gotta do anythin' you're not ready for. No pressure, you understand?"

Rick grabbed Daryl's hand and pulled it from his chin, and laced their hands together. He met Daryl's eyes squarely. "I'm not havin' second thought, Daryl. I wanna do this, I just… want it to be good for you. I know you've had more experience, and I just…" He shrugged, unsure of what to say.

To his surprise, Daryl just smiled softly, and gave him a short, sweet kiss. "You idiot," he said fondly. Rick gave him an offended look, but let him speak. "I mighta fucked before, but I never done this. Imagine I'm just as nervous as you."

Rick shook his head, uncomprehending. "Done…?"

Daryl sighed. "This, Rick. I never been with someone I gave a shit about, much less…with someone like you, someone I…."

Rick smiled, and nodded. Daryl hadn't been able to say the words, yet, but Rick didn't mind. He knew how Daryl felt about him. He showed him everyday.

Rick ran his arms over Daryl's shoulders, and pulled their slick, naked bodies together. He pressed their lips together, and felt Daryl sigh into the kiss, pressing his hands into Rick's back to pull them flush together.

Rick backed up towards the bed, and sat when his knees hit the edge. Daryl leaned over him, continuing the kiss, without urgency, just leisurely moving his lips against Rick's, and slowly maneuvering Rick's body up the bed, and following him. At last, Rick was on his back, and Daryl was next to him, on his stomach, still kissing, and Rick felt his tense muscles relax.

Daryl had himself propped up on one elbow, and ran his other hand over Rick's chest, teasing his nipples and pulling lightly on his chest hairs. Rick gasped at the sensations, and Daryl smiled against his mouth.

Daryl's hand slipped lower, and as his hand touched Rick's hard cock, Rick lost all patience. He pulled Daryl on top of him, spreading his legs so Daryl fit between them, and kissed Daryl so fiercely that his lips ached. Daryl groaned as their cocks touched, and Rick couldn't help but lift his hips, seeking friction.

Daryl gave him what he was looking for. He rutted against Rick, and broke the kiss to bury his head in Rick's neck, unable to take in a full breath from the sensations.

Rick lifted his legs and wrapped them around Daryl's hips, pressing his feet into the backs of Daryl's thighs, and silently urging him to go faster, harder.

Abruptly, Daryl pulled back, and Rick reached for him automatically, letting out a pitiful noise that he would never admit to in a thousand years.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I gotta stop or…" Daryl gasped out, swallowing hard. He was just out of reach, hovering over Rick, but their bodies weren't touching, and no matter how hard Rick pulled, Daryl wouldn't move closer. "If you wanna do this, do everythin'… I have to stop, alright?"

Rick bit his lip, and nodded. He understood, but dammit, stop talking and get a move on!

Daryl smirked at him, apparently reading his expression. "You got some slick?" he asked.

Rick nodded furiously. "In—in the drawer." He pointed to his nightstand, and Daryl reached over him to open the drawer. He pulled his hand out, and he was grasping the small tube that Rick had bought when he and Daryl had started going out. He knew he'd want to do this one day, and he knew he'd want it to be Daryl.

Before opening the tube, Daryl cleared his throat and met Rick's eyes. "Do you… have protection?" Rick frowned, but nodded.

"Do we have to use-?"

Daryl hesitated, then leaned forward, resting his weight on Rick again. "It's safer," he murmured against Rick's cheek. Rick turned his head and kissed Daryl's cheek, then jaw. "I… got checked, a couple weeks after we started goin' together, and I'm clean. But, I understand if you wanna use a condom."

Rick shook his head. "I trust you. Wouldn't be here, doin' this, if I didn't."

Daryl met his eyes, swallowing visibly. "You sure?"

Rick nodded firmly. "No condom. I don't want anythin' between us."

Daryl kissed him so hard that their teeth clacked together, but Rick didn't care, because he could feel all of Daryl again, could feel him rutting their hips together. Daryl broke the kiss and moved down Rick's body. He opened the tube and slicked up three fingers.

He gently ran them down Rick's jutting hipbone, around his straining erection, and past his balls. Rick's legs were already bent and spread, bracketing Daryl, from earlier. Daryl wrapped the hand not coated in lube around Rick's cock and started pumping.

Rick kept his eyes focused on Daryl as the boy licked his lips, watching his hand as he gently rubbed Rick's hole, not pushing in yet. Daryl lifted his gaze and met Rick's eyes. "You ready?" he asked hoarsely.

Rick nodded, and took a deep breath. Hell, yes, he was ready.

Daryl held his gaze, watching Rick's face, as he pushed one finger in slowly. Rick gasped, and his back arched slightly off the bed. Daryl kept pumping Rick's cock with his other hand, and Rick tried to focus on the feeling.

Daryl pushed his finger in and out slowly, stretching the hole slightly, and then worked a second finger in. Rick's hips jerked at the feeling, and he inhaled sharply. Daryl's eyes watched his face, and Rick could tell the moment he found what he was looking for. Daryl smirked a second before he nudged something in Rick that made stars explode behind his eyes. His hips rose of their own accord, and Daryl picked up the pace on pumping his cock. He thrust his fingers against that spot again, and again, and Rick's whole world went white as he came all over his stomach and Daryl's hand.

By the time he came down from his orgasm, Rick realized that Daryl had three fingers in him, and he pumped once, twice, before pulling out and positioning himself between Rick's legs. Rick pulled him closer so he could kiss him, and Daryl placed his forearms on either side of Rick's head, bracketing his face, and kissed him back tenderly.

"Now, Daryl," Rick said, his voice hoarse. "Please."

Daryl nodded, and moved a hand down to adjust himself, to get himself into position. Rick's legs stayed bent on the bed, but he lifted his hips slightly to give Daryl better access. He felt Daryl's prick, larger than the fingers, and much firmer, press against his hole, and inhaled, holding his breath.

"No, Rick," Daryl groaned. "Breathe, sweetheart. I need ya to breathe."

Rick nodded, and let out a gust of air, and tried to breathe normally as Daryl pushed his cock deeper, deeper, into Rick.

Their balls touched, and Rick realized that Daryl was all the way in. Daryl groaned loudly, his face buried yet again in the crook of Rick's neck.

"Move, Daryl. Whenever you're ready," Rick groaned.

Daryl pulled out slowly, and thrust all the way back in. Rick moaned as Daryl hit his prostate again, and he felt his erection growing for the second time tonight. Daryl could feel it where their bellies were rubbing together, and he reached a hand between them to stroke Rick as he continued thrusting into him.

Rick's head fell to the side as he tried to feel everything all at once, but it was almost too much. He raised his legs again to wrap around Daryl's waist, and he pressed against his back urging him on.

"Fuck, Daryl. Ha- harder. Feel s-so good."

Daryl moaned, and his thrusts sped up, as did his hand on Rick's cock. "Dammit, Rick. Can't… gonna… so close," he grunted.

Rick nodded, their heads pressed together, and whispered to him. "Come for me, Daryl. Come in me."

Daryl let out a sound, almost a whine, but it made Rick feel like he'd finally seen him without any walls up. He felt so blessed in that moment, so perfect, and he wanted it to last, but like all good things, it ended.

It ended with Daryl throwing his head back and coming, his sperm coating Rick's insides, and Rick following right after, for the second time.

Daryl collapsed, half on Rick, half on the bed, and breathed deeply from Rick's neck. He felt Daryl's tongue peek out and taste the sweat glistening on his skin, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around Daryl's back.

They slept that way, Daryl's head on his shoulder, Rick's arms wrapped around him. In the end, it was exactly what Rick had always hoped for, and much more than he'd ever expected.

Now, as Rick stands in the kitchen of his and Daryl's home, cutting up potatoes to boil, he can't help but marvel at the fact that their lovemaking has gotten even better. That first night, he didn't think it was possible to feel more blissful than he did.

That was an instance where he was glad to be proven wrong.

Rick dropped the potatoes into the pot of water, thinking about how much had happened in the last few years. Daryl's father had been put in prison for child abuse, and Daryl'd had to testify in front of him and a roomful of people to make it happen. Rick had been there for Daryl in the aftermath, when he'd struggled with his feelings of guilt and gratitude. He'd gotten better in time, less weighed down, and Rick felt blessed every time one of his walls came down.

They'd graduated high school of course, and had been together a year and a half as they walked down to receive their diplomas. Rick was so proud that day, so full of joy for himself and Daryl.

Rick frowned as he thought of the fights that came after. He moved out to the back patio to fire up the grill for the steaks, flashing back on the hurtful words they'd both said back then.

Rick had been accepted to college, and wanted to go, but wanted Daryl to go with him.

"What, so I can be your little wife at home? Doin' the laundry, makin' dinner, stayin' up late while you're at your little study groups, wonderin' when the hell your gonna be home? No thanks, Grimes. I'm fine righ' here."

Rick ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "That's not what I'm askin' you to do, Daryl, and you know it! You can get a job there, and we can live together, just us. I want you there, Daryl. Please." His voice had grown softer as he spoke, and he could see Daryl's defenses crumbling.

"I know, 's just… maybe you'd be better off, Rick," he said quietly. "You ever think o' that? Maybe you'll go up to college, and you'll meet someone; someone smart, or funny, or good-lookin', and … you'll wonder what the hell your doin' with a guy like me."

Rick's fists clenched, so angry he could barely speak. "Fuck you, Daryl. Fuck you, and your self-deprecating bullshit. I don't know how many times I'll have to say this to you, but I'll keep sayin' it 'til the day I die if I have to." He moved forward quickly, shoving Daryl back against the wall of his bedroom, and braced his hands on Daryl's shoulders, squeezing.

"I love you, you dickhead. _You_ are smart, and funny, and fuckin' gorgeous. Half the time I look at you, I can't believe how beautiful you are. You make me so happy, I feel like I'm gonna explode. A day without you feels like a year, and I don't wanna live a day without your smart mouth, your hostility, or your honest –to-goodness, worst taste in movies I've ever seen. _You_ are the best person I know, I want you there because I love you. I know exactly who you are, and I love everything about you, good and bad."

Daryl was quiet for so long, Rick wondered if he had anything to say. "I'm sorry, Rick. I'm sorry I keep doin' this. If someone tells you you're shit for sixteen years… it's hard to forget, you know?"

Rick's face softened, and his voice was gentle when he spoke again. "I know, Daryl. But try to listen to the people in you life that care about you. I love you more than I ever thought I could, and my parents love you like a son. I think Carl likes you more than he like me sometimes. And Merle loves you, I can see it every time we visit him. It's the same way you look at him, Daryl. We all love you. You just gotta learn to trust in that."

Daryl nodded, his eyes red rimmed, and he pulled Rick into a hug. Rick rubbed his hands down Daryl's back soothingly.

"I'll go. I'll get a job, and meet yer stupid, stuck up college friends. And then we'll move back here, and start a life. Yeah?"

Rick pulled back, and grinned broadly. "That's the best think I've heard come outta your mouth all day, Dixon."

Daryl smirked. "Well, ya know, Merle's gonna need a place to stay when he gets out in a coupla months…"

Rick grimaced, but then shrugged. "If it means you'll come with me, I'd be happy to have Merle there. That's how much I fucking love."

Daryl's eyes got big, obviously shocked at Rick's answer. He shook his head. "I swear, Grimes, yer language gets worse every day. Think I need to wash yer mouth out with soap…"

Rick smiled as he flipped the steaks on the grill. Those four years in college had been full of arguments, and bickering, and the occasional fight. But they were also full of makeup sex, and romantic nights all to themselves, and too many good moments to count.

His good times with Daryl had always outweighed the bad.

Rick got his degree in Criminal Justice, much to Merle's chagrin and Daryl's amusement. Merle had ended up staying with them for a few months, but found his own place after a while, back in their hometown. Dale even hired him back on, after getting Daryl's assurances that his brother was on the straight and narrow.

Merle had slip ups over the years, and sometimes Daryl would be gone for a few days to help sort him out, but he had a support system now. In Daryl and Rick, and even in Beth, who'd come to appreciate Merle's lewd sense of humor and love for his brother.

After Rick graduated, he and Daryl rented this apartment in their hometown, and Daryl started working at Dale's again. Rick applied for a position as a Sheriff's deputy, and Daryl was almost disgusted that he'd found his life partner in a cop. Rick couldn't help but be amused by that.

Years passed, and Rick watched Carl go through high school, with the same teachers he had, and at least one more: Carol.

The three of them had lost touch over the years, but when Daryl and Rick moved back, they found out that she'd become the English teacher when old Ms. Thomas finally retired. She and Daryl had at least one day a month to just hang out, catch up, and generally take comfort in each other's company. Rick was so happy that Daryl had someone else in his life that he was comfortable with, he couldn't find it in himself to be jealous. They had Merle, Carol, and Rick's family over sometimes; barbequing and making everyone get along.

Rick smiled as he remembered some of the fun they had. And some of the more drama-filled times, like when they found Merle sneaking a puff of a joint to Carl and his dad had punched him. Or when Carol had broken down and confessed that her boyfriend was physically abusing her.

Rick had to physically restrain Daryl and Merle that time. He'd gone over to the bastard's house within the hour though, with his uniform on. If the guy was a little bruised by the time he made it to the station, well… Rick wasn't perfect, either.

One of the best night, though, was when Daryl had come bursting through the door, later than usual, and swept Rick up off the floor faster than he could think, 'What the hell?'

Merle came in after his younger brother, much calmer, but still grinning widely. Daryl set Rick on his feet, but kept his arm around him. 'What's goin' on? What happened?" Rick asked, eyes wide.

He'd rarely seen Daryl so happy.

"Dale, Rick! Dale offered to sell me and Merle the garage! We're gonna buy it!" Daryl said, his voice so full of joy that Rick had to reach forward and slap Merle's shoulder before embracing Daryl again. The man was almost vibrating with energy, he was so thrilled.

It had taken a few months to hash out all the details and finalize everything, but by the end of the year, Horvath's Motorcycle Repair had become Dixon's, and Daryl was coming home happier than Rick'd seen him since he bought his first bike.

Daryl had always loved his work, but he had big dreams about owning his own shop. As the years passed, and Rick began his career, Daryl had felt stagnant. But after Dale had sold his shop to the Dixon brother, all of that had changed.

It had been a few years since then, and Daryl loved his job as much now as he had then. They were also bringing in more money, which is what finally motivated them to start saving for a home.

Rick was tired of holding the barbeques in his little backyard, though it was less crowded since Carl went off to college in Atlanta. He would be back in year or so, though, and Rick wanted to be settled before then. He could barely wait.

Rick walked back in the house, steaks ready and on a plate, and set to work preparing the cake. He placed the steaks in the oven to keep warm, and made the batter quickly. He realized after the mixer shut off that the music had stopped, and turned his head curiously to listen.

-_reports have indicated that the incident in Los Angeles was not an isolated event. Authorities in New York City, Columbus, Boston, and Dallas have all released statements confirming cases of this virus. Residents have been asked to stay inside while authorities and the CDC figure out how to cure—_

Rick's attention to the broadcast was broken when he heard the front door open. He listened as Daryl's heavy boots made their way through the hallway, then stopped. Rick could see him in his mind's eye, conscientiously taking off his dirty shoes. It'd only taken six months of promised sexual favors and pleading for that habit to kick in.

Rick felt arms wrap around his waist, and he leaned back into Daryl's embrace.

"Mmmm," Daryl groaned. "You smell good."

Rick laughed. "You don't."

Daryl chuckled, then ran his nose along Rick's jaw, and up to his ear. He breathed deeply, and Rick closed his eyes, content. "Happy tenth anniversary, Rick."

Rick smiled, so happy he could burst. "Right back atcha."

Daryl leaned down and licked a stripe up Rick's neck, causing him to shiver. "Had cake batter on ya. Mmmm, tastes good."

Rick laughed breathily, and turned in Daryl's arms, capturing his lips in a quick kiss.

"Glad you're home," Rick said softly.

Daryl nodded, and kissed him again.

_-so far, the CDC hasn't issued any reports as to what this virus might be. The White House has issued a statement, advising residents of the infected cities to remain in their homes, and only venture out when needed—_

"What is this shit?" Daryl said, and stepped around Rick to switch off the radio. Rick shrugged.

"Dunno. Was listenin' to music, then the news came on."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Don't need the new to tell us the world's mostly fucked up."

Rick shook his head, amused. "Come on. Steaks and veggies are done. I'm gonna put the cake in the oven, you mash the potatoes."

"Yes, sir," Daryl responded, and Rick grinned, pouring the cake batter into separate pans and then sliding them into the oven and taking the steaks out.

Rick watched as Daryl drained the potatoes, and added milk and butter to the pot. He was pulling out the mixer when Rick couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You know I love you, right?"

Daryl turned, his face serious. He nodded, then moved closer to Rick, hooking his fingers into Rick's belt loops and holding him there. He met Rick's eyes.

"I love you too, Rick." And he smiled.

**I know, I know, I'm an evil person, but I really wanted to keep this open for a sequel, because I just love these boys. Let me know what you think!** **Thanks for reading!**


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